Of Peasants and Nobility
by ArcanaHermit
Summary: Though many know of the exploits of Saint King Alm I, much less was recorded about his companions from Ram Village, especially during the troubled end of Mila and Duma's reign. What were they like? What relationships did they form and what was their ultimate fate? Now is the time to tell the tale of the lesser known, yet just as crucial members of the Deliverance.
1. Chapter 1

_Of Peasants and Nobility_

 _Chapter 1_

 _Southern Zofian Outpost, East Tower_

As Renaux watches over the horizon, the gentle sun setting down towards the sea, he scanned once more at the horizon. No signs of the scouts once again, which means that most likely the enemy was coming this way. Hand clutch tightly to his spear, he turned towards Feroux, who simply nodded at him. They understood their duty well; they must defend this point at all costs.

 _SNAP!_

"Who goes there?" The guards shouted, as Renaux scanned below. The sound came from the nearby woods. Was it the enemy at last? Feroux was ready to blow the alarm the instant they saw them. Time slowed for those few minutes, as Renaux started to descend the steps, his spear pointed at the wood. A rustling sound could be heard more clearly now, and as he stepped ever so slightly, he prepared for the worst.

A squirrel came out of the nearby bush, and he sighed. So that was what noise was, so he thought. He backed up, eyes still looking towards the woo-

The suddenly something touched him. It was something hard and fast, beyond his range of vision, slicing the side of his neck so that he couldn't scream. Renaux fell to the ground as he saw his own blood fill the floor he was helplessly looking at. His vision fading, he tried to scream once more, but to no avail. His throat was ripped and all he could manage was a light wheeze.

The last things he heard were what sound like a warning before a loud thud. Then all of his thoughts cease, his final one lamenting about his child back at Castle Zofia.

* * *

"Whew, that was too close." The brown-skinned swords man whispered jokingly, looking below at the two bodies below them, one charred by fire and one limping from his earlier slash. "He almost gave our positions away."

"You think so?" His silver haired partner said in his normal tone, though a stranger wouldn't know it by how aloof and almost condescending the tone usually is. "Someone might have heard his scream before he fell, and is running to tell the others. We're lucky this outpost is so lightly garrisoned, or that chance is basically a guarantee in that situation."

"Always the downer, huh? You know, you can try being a little happier sometimes?" Gray said, smirking at him.

"Hmph, as if I answer to you." Kliff hissed nonchalantly.

"Yeah yeah, anyways let's go." Gray said, smirking as he crouched down to not be seen on the ramparts, Kliff doing the same. Taking the East tower was only the start of their mission. Quietly sneaking their way, the duo from Ram Village quietly moved towards the Eastern Wall, looking down at the soldiers below.

A stroke of luck, the soldiers inside hadn't noticed that the eastern, and hopefully, the western tower were taken from them. They expected to have a defensive advantage, but they instead they would be cornered. All they had to do was wait for the signal.

* * *

Commander Gareth was enjoying a nice dinner in his keep, drinking from fine Zofian wine procured from his own vineyards. He had heard reports that all was quiet, and that no sign of the so-called Deliverance had appeared. They must have fled like the cowards they are, peasant and farmers who were no match for true nobility. And even if they did try, they had a hostage of their own to bargain with, so no need to do anything but stay here and let Desaix crush them with the help of the Rigellians.

Suddenly a soldier went in just as he was finishing his meal, annoying him. Didn't he ask not to be disturbed? "What is it, speak."

"Sir, there is someone waiting outside the gates. H-he claims to be a Deliverance Soldier."

"WHAT?" Gareth shouted as he stood up, clutching his sword. "Is anyone even with him?"

"Only a priestess from Mila, sir" The soldier replied, a tone of slight confusion. "He claims he wants to bargain with us."

"Ah, surrender then. Good, good. I shall go see him then." Gareth said, clutching his sword. "These farm folk are all the same, once they see who their betters are; they'll come flocking to us again."

* * *

The boy outside the gates stood quietly as he looked at the wall, shining almost like gold from the orange light of sunset, waiting for the enemy commander to come out. Behind him, Silque was quietly uttering a prayer to Mila for protection.

The gates opened as the commander, a stout man with a red mane stood forth, flanked by two soldiers carrying lances. He looked at him with disdain. He is but a boy, the commander thought, barely old enough to wield a weapon.

"What do you want boy? Have you come here to surrender to us?" He said immediately. "If you reveal the location of your friends, I suppose I can give you a reward that might appease one as common as you are."

"No, commander, I have not come to surrender myself." The boy said, his voice matching his age, but the resolution behind it felt like it came from a man but a boy. "In fact, I strongly advise that you surrender, sir. If you do, no harm will come to you or this garrison."

A moment of silence passed before the commander laughed and spat at his face, the boy dodged the spit, but his face remained resolute. "Are you mad, boy? You are but one man, and common-born at that, what can you possibly do to make us surrender, much less harm us? Guards, get rid of this knave."

The boy steeled himself and drew the sword from his hip. "I had hoped it didn't have come to this. Deliverance, NOW!"

The moment he uttered the command, all hell broke loose at once. Kliff revealed himself and cast off a bolt of fire at one of the guards, hitting him square in the back. Just as the other guard turned around, a well placed arrow from the western side caught him in the eye, and he fell as well, leaving the commander, who was still in shock.

"Go deal with the soldiers inside." The boy, Alm, said to his fellow soldiers, who nodded back and disappeared back into the walls, working their way through the outpost. He pointed his sword at the commander. "It's just you and me now, commander. I offer my surrender once again."

He didn't even bother to respond before swinging his sword down, Alm drawing his to block the blow. Clangs and shouts were exchanged as steel clashed against steel, but thank to Alm's superior training, he was getting the upper hand. Soon he found a hole in the enemy's defense and stuck true, slicing the commander's stomach open. He limped to the floor, muttering a soft curse before finally collapsing.

He sighed, it was finally over. Now that he was done taking lives, it was time to save those few that remain.

* * *

"Soldiers of Desaix, your commander is dead. We of the Deliverance do not wish to spill any more Zofian blood. Lay down your arms and surrender."

That statement stopped the remaining resistance. Ambushed, surrounded, and without a leader, they threw down their arms and surrendered. Lukas and Tobin were seeing to their imprisonment. Fellow Zofians they may be, but they were not allowed to escape and inform the enemy of their progress.

"Looks like the battle went as good as expected." Lukas told Alm as he approached him, counting the last of the soldiers who were gathered in the courtyard. "Not a single one escaped, so suffice to say, the momentum and surprise are still solely in our hands."

"Heh, looks like a job well done, won't you say, Alm old buddy?" Gray remarked cheerfully, wiping off the bits of blood left on his blade.

"Indeed, though it pains me to fight our fellow countrymen. It should be Rigellian blood that was spilt." He said with not an insignificant amount of resentment.

"We will have our chance later." Lukas assured the Ram Villagers. Through his calm and stoic mask, even he was eager for the chance to fight Rigellians. "For now, we'll rest here for the night, procure any supplies and weapons we need for the journey ahead, and liberate any imprisoned Deliverance members. Speaking of which…"

He gestured to the archer and the swordsman "Go to the brig and find any prisoners you can, with any luck, lady Clair will be held there."

The two nodded respectfully and headed off to the keep, Lukas and Alm continuing to deal with the surrendered soldiers in the meantime.

* * *

"Hey, that isn't yours, you know." Tobin mumbled as they passed a weapons supply room, stopping only because his companion saw an elegantly crafted sword, and couldn't keep his hands off it.

"Well, yeah. But it's mine now." Gray exclaimed, staring at the sword in splendor. It had a smooth leather pommel and a straight hilt, but what caught his eye most was the blade. It glinted yellow in the torchlight, and seemed to emit a bit of light itself. It was jagged, with edges sticking out almost like a lightning bolt.

"Lukas said we can procure any weapons and supplies that we need. And I need this." Gray said, holding the sword up high, a grin on his face while Tobin simply sighed.

"I can't believe you. Let's go already; we don't have time for your fantasies." Tobin said, walking towards the brig.

* * *

"Ah, I was wondering when I would be eventually liberated from my unseemly situation." The blonde haired girl said as she looked at the two men before her. "Though admittedly you two aren't what I imagined my saviors to be. Regardless, would the two gentlemen help the lady out of her cell?"

Unbeknownst to her, Tobin and Gray were currently too shocked at the moment to respond. They had seen girls before back at Ram Village, but this one makes them all look…ordinary. Long blonde hair tied up neatly, with a near flawless face. Not just her looks, but here mere presence exudes grace and beauty.

"Uh…"

"I…"

"If the men would stop their gawking, the lady would be happy to get out of this cell." Clair said, annoyed.

"R-right!" The duo said at once as they searched around the brig, trying to find the key. They searched high and low for it; every second wasted making the already annoyed Clair even more annoyed.

"Hey guys, I was wondering what took you so long." A voice came from the entrance. All three turned towards the voice, who turns out to be Alm.

"Ah, it seems a man of competence has finally arrived." Clair said. "These two bumbling fools have yet to find the key to this cell. Would you be so kind as to assist their search?"

"The key? You mean that one?" Alm said confusingly, pointing at the table, the ring of cell keys in plain sight. Grabbing it, he passed his mortified friends and unlocked the cell door. "Sorry that took so long. I'm Alm, from Ram Village."

"Clair." She replied, taking her hand and lifting herself up. "A pleasure to meet you, though for one who claims to live in a village, you look so…dignified."

Alm let out a light chuckle. "Well I wouldn't know anything about that; I'm just in this to protect Zofia. We march north tomorrow."

"Very well, we shall aid you. I would definitely like to know more about you, Alm. But for now I am rather famished, so if you'll excuse me…"

Clair walked out of the brig, not passing Gray or Tobin a second glance. Alm looked at his friends, slightly befuddled. "Is…uh…anything wrong?"

"No Alm, nothing's wrong." Gray said before leaving, his head looking sullen. Tobin followed suit, not saying anything, leaving Alm more befuddled.

"Uh…"

* * *

"Man, that was so embarrassing." Gray exclaimed in his temporary quarters, placing his stuff haphazardly as he sat on his bed. "We were like idiots there."

"We WERE idiots back there." Tobin said as he tapped his feet irritably. "That Clair chick though, she definitely was something."

"Yeah, she was." Gray sighed as he smiled, remembering how beautiful she looked. It was like he was lost in another world by thinking of her.

"Hey, try not to get too fond of her, huh? She's way out of our league." Tobin warned. "She's noble, so chances are she won't even think of guys like us as an option, and even if she does, Alm's still around, so…"

"Come on, isn't Alm still head over heels over Celica?"

That just led Tobin to sigh. There were times when his best friend really was thick headed, or maybe he was just deluding himself into thinking he could woo someone like her.

"It's been years, man. Alm might still remember her, but I doubt they're still…you know. Besides, Clair might just make Alm swoon like he did with you. Just give up, dude."

"Come on, what's the point in giving up now. I just got to make a better impression of myself the next time I meet her. After all, who doesn't love a strong and confident man?" Gray said with a wide smirk on his face, still in his own little world.

"Whatever, man. Just don't come crying if it crashes down on you. Anyways, it's late and I doubt we can sneak our usual session today, so I'll be heading to bed. Night, Gray."

"Night, Tobes. I'll see you tomorrow." Gray said before lying down and closing his eyes, wondering if he'll dream of her.

* * *

Outside in the hallway, Tobin spotted Kliff leaning on the wall, and nodded to him. "You…uh…been standing there long?"

"Long enough." Kliff responded. "What's this about Gray and a girl?"

"You know, if you wanted to join the conversation, you could have just knocked." Tobin groaned exasperatedly, to which the mage replied with a simple shrug. "I don't like small talk."

"You know Clair, the brother of the Deliverance leader? That's the girl he's so wrapped up over."

Kliff flashed an amused smile. "Man, he's done some stupid stuff before, but this might just take the cake. He knows he has no chance, right?"

This just caused Tobin to rub his forehead. "One look at him and you'd think he has all the chances in the world."

This only caused Kliff to laugh softly, which Tobin eventually joined.

"Oh brother, we're in for a one hell of a ride with him, aren't we Kliff?"

"With that idiot, most likely."

They both knew how that little pursuit would most likely end, and they would certainly laugh at him now. But they'd be there for their friend when it inevitably fails. That's what friends do after all.

* * *

Gray was never certain of most things when he decided to join the Deliverance. He wasn't certain if he was doing the right thing, if he'd be able to hold his own with seasoned warriors, or that'd he even be alive by the time this was all over. But he was certain of one thing.

He is, above many things, head over heels for Clair.

He wasn't sure what it is about her. She was beautiful, that was certain, but he had seen his share of beauties as well, and comparing her to them was like comparing a candle to a forest fire. It was more the way she moved, her heavenly voice, and the way she carried herself with absolute confidence. But even that wasn't enough reason for him to be so infatuated with her. Perhaps it's because it has no reason that it is love.

Since their first meeting up until their early march out of the Southern Fort, Clair hasn't paid him any attention at all, instead spending her time grooming her pegasi and talking with either Lukas or Alm. Alm especially, and it was quite clear where her interests lie.

Still he wasn't about to let something like that stop him. As he continued to walk down the dirt roads leading inwards into Zofia, he silently prayed to Mila for luck, for in war for peace and the war for her heart.

 **So I guess I should get a few things out of the way first.**

 **This is technically an AU fic, but it will mostly follow through Alm's route rather faithfully, but with one major change to the overall canon. You'll see what I mean later on.**

 **This will be a focus on Alm's group, particularly the Ram Villagers (I didn't have time to put in Faye because I didn't know where I would place her but she'll appear, rest assured).**

 **If you're wondering, Alm will have a few scenes, but he'll mostly be out of focus for this fic. I feel like making this widely involve Alm would be redundant considering SoV is from his point of view (and Celica's but I'm not doing her route.)**

 **With that said, I'll see you next chapter where we try to meet up with the rest of the Deliverance and Gray starts his initial attempts to woo over Clair. -ArcanaHermit**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

 _Reasons for Fighting_

"Man, that was a close shave, huh Faye?" Tobin said, wiping sweat off the brow of his forehead. His quiver was close to empty, and a squadron of dead cavaliers was on the hill below him. Beside him, the pegasus rider was checking her mount for any injuries, affectionately brushing her hair as she would the horses back in Ram.

"Yeah..." Faye replied before hopping Alm. "I hope Alm is ok…"

"Knowing him, he's fine." The brown haired archer reassured him. "Honestly, if I'm worried about anything, it's Gray and Clair."

The duo groaned, remembering his attempt to converse with Clair during their march to Clive's hideout. To say that the reception she gave their friend was as cold as a winter's blizzard was understating it. It didn't help that they were being assigned to a skirmish group once they spotted several pockets of enemy scouts looking for them.

"Anyways, it's about time we head back to the main force." Tobin said, hopping onto the pegasi with Faye. "Hey, think you can cook that fruit and boar dish like you did back at Ram, if I managed to hunt one down of course. I'm sick of the old bread and cheese routine we've been having."

Faye giggled and gave a simple nod before tightening the reins, the pegasi responding by spreading its majestic wings, taking flight.

* * *

Elsewhere, east of where Tobin and Faye took off, Gray was busy dealing with the last Zofian soldier of his particular scouting group. The soldier swung his sword in a vertical arc, but the villager simply ducked and stabbed his blade into his stomach, pulling it out and letting the enemy's body fall into the grassy field.

"Alright! Score another one for Gray." He shouted excitedly, brandishing the lightning-shaped blade up high. Sheathing it, he walked back a few paces to find Clair gracefully landing down on her. Once again, the mere sight of her was enough for his heart to skip a few beats, and to add a slight swagger to his step.

"Heya Clair, I'm all finished on my end. What about you?"

"Ah, salutations Gray." Clair said in her usual tone, though one can make out a bit of edge in her voice. "The lady has finished dispatching the stragglers, which means we must rejoin with the main force."

"I guess." Gray said nonchalantly. He smiled confidently and decided to be bold in his approach. Subtlety was never his style regardless. "Hey, has anyone told you how beautiful you always seem to look?"

The noblewoman simply sighed. Another one of his utterly unsubtle advances. If it weren't for the fact that they were in the same army and had to work together, she'd have much more words to say as opposed to what she actually said. "Yes, yes I have. But those people only see my looks and nothing more, and I detest those kinds of people."

That comment struck through with Gray, who immediately stayed silent and simply hopped on to her pegasus. As with his initial flight with her, he was tempted to wrap his arms around her for the sake of safety, but he felt that it was wise not to. He'd probably be at a higher risk of falling if he did so.

As they took flight, there was no conversation between them. Gray felt like this is probably for the best. Perhaps he really was infatuated with her for her looks. After all, she was noble and he was a commoner, they most likely had nothing in common. It didn't help that the first few times he tried to have a meaningful conversation was met with diplomatic yet obvious rebukes from her.

Still despite that, he found himself staring at her back, her golden hair flowing through the wind. It looked majestic to his eyes, and he wasn't even looking at her face.

 _Man, I'm getting all worked up at seeing her hair? I must really be losing it._

"We're approaching the rendezvous." Clair said, breaking him out of his reviere to look down. There was Alm, Lukas and the others, and even Tobin and Faye got there before them. There was however, an unfamiliar face. A silver haired man riding an elegant white horse, wearing green armor. His face was in a scowl, and he looked like he was arguing with Lukas.

"Hey, who's that over there?" Gray said, pointing as they descended near them, the pegasi flying just meters above the grass.

"That's..." Clair said before he got a better look at him, particularly his scowling face. "Oh no..."

It wasn't just Clair's worried statement that made Gray uneasy. As they landed on the grass near Alm, the knight looked at her and smiled "Ah Clair, I'm glad to see you safe." The man said before looking behind her, his smile instantly souring upon seeing him. "Who is he? More of the peasant rabble Lukas brought with him, trying to sell them off as a poor substitute for Sir Mycen?"

It wasn't just the statement itself that stung, it was the tone and the smug way he said it, like he thought he was nothing. He wanted to retort, but Lukas managed to speak before he did. "Fernand, listen to reason, we are undermanned as it is, and we need every sword hand we can-"

"What we need are soldiers, not peasants and farmers that will flee at the first charge of battle." The man- Fernand - said. "I do not trust their worth, even if they were supposedly trained by Sir Mycen."

"Hey." Gray said, causing Fernand to turn his head over to him. "We've fought our fair share of battles. We've taken the Southern Fort, saved Clair, and just drove back the skirmish units recently. I think we've proven that we won't just run like chickens upon looking at an enemy like you say."

Fernand's face twisted into a very spiteful frown, as if Gray just punched him instead of defending his point. "If, and I do mean if, you were to stay in the army, I suggest you treat your superiors more respectfully. Or perhaps that is beyond the comprehension of commoners."

Gray really wanted to hit him; every inch of his body was urging him on. He clenched his fists and tried his best to withhold his anger. To strike him now would merely reinforce his point, as well as cause him and the others further trouble. Fernand gave him one last glare before facing towards Clair, extending his hand to her. "My lady, there is no need to stay with them any longer. Come with me and I will escort you to your brother safely."

Clair stood forward and looked at his hand, and simply looked back at his face and frowned a bit. "I refuse, Fernand."

"Excuse me?" The noble said, looking at her like a child who stole from the kitchens.

"I will not." She repeated herself. "I will reach Clive on my own, along with Alm and their group. They have more than proven themselves worthy enough to escort me."

Her response made Fernand grit his teeth. To be refused for such baseborn curs, by Lady Clair no less. "Very well." He said at last, trying to sound formal, yet the tone indicating anything but. He turned to Lukas and gave him a death-like stare "See to it that no harm comes to her. You'll regret it if she does."

With no more words, Fernand hopped across his horse and rode out, not sparing another glance back. If he did, he would have seen Gray kick the dirt in anger, the other Ram Villagers finally approaching him.

"Man, what a jerk." Gray said angrily, kicking the ground again just because he didn't have anything else to lash out at. "Just because he's noble he thinks he can treat us like dirt? I'd like to see him say that to my face again."

"Not to disagree with you, but did you expect anything less?" Tobin said as he placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Nobles always treated us as nothing but tools for them to use. We've just been spoiled by Lukas being so nice."

Lukas didn't respond, but simply stayed silent with a sullen look on his face. Clair simply flared up in anger. "You don't know Fernand, or why he acts like this. He wasn't always like this...he's...changed."

"I...think it's best if we camp down for the night." Alm said, futilely trying to defuse the situation, awkwardly looking at the setting sun as to avoid facing Lukas. "It's been a tough day."

The rest of the Deliverance nodded in agreement and began setting up in silence, the earlier confrontation spoiling any cheerful mood they might have had.

* * *

As the sun fully set and the stars were out, Gray was poking the campfire with a stick, waiting for the stew propped up above it to finally boil. There was a lot on his mind, and not all of it was because of Fernand or Clair. As he checked the pot once again, he was approached by Tobin, Kliff, and Faye.

"Alm?" He said nonchalantly as the other three took their seats around the campfire, comfortable with the soft grass of the plains.

"Discussing movement plans with Lukas." Faye said with not a small amount of sadness in her voice. "And before you ask, he says he's tired so he'll head back to his tent right afterwards."

Gray simply sighed and looked at the pot again. Absent again. Bubbles were starting to form, so at least something good is happening for a change. "Stew's done. Eat up."

The rest heartily poured some onto their bowls and gobbled it up gratefully. It wasn't fare nobles usually ate, but it warmed one's body to its stomach, and its earthy taste was a luxury all on its own.

"So…." Tobin said after most of the stew has been finished. "Is anyone else going to start? Or do I have to." He was met with silence. More often, the other villagers would eagerly start their nightly discussion, but not tonight. "Alright then, someone has to do it. We're most likely going to meet people like that Fernand guy once we reach the Deliverance hideout."

"I know things like that happen, but it's really sad to experience it for myself." Faye said somberly. "It feels like the time we got caught by Zofian knights as kids." She recalled that unpleasant memory, because of the terrifying thought of what would happen if Sir Mycen wasn't around to save her, and because it caused her friend Celica to move away from Ram. Despite knowing that her affections for Alm, she didn't hold it against her personally and still considered her a good friend.

"Hey, let's focus on some good news." Gray said, cracking a bright, goofy smile. The others looked at him and smiled slightly. Leave it to Gray to make things sillier. "We're still alive, aren't we? We took a fort and defeated three Zofian squadrons in just a couple of weeks. Are we good or what?"

"Heh, well if you really want us to focus on something more cheerful." Kliff said with an evil glint in his eyes. "How's your "wooing" of Clair?"

At the mere mention of that, Gray's face went from cheerful to defeated, making the others laugh, well aware of his many attempts. He couldn't help but smile a little, if his failures at courting gave them a bit of a laugh, why not? Tobin gave him a reassuring pat on the back. "It's alright, buddy, plenty of girls back in Ram waiting for you."

"But I don't want other girls. I want to be with her. There's just…something about her that drives me nuts." Gray said as he sat down and stuck his spoon into his mouth. "I just don't know what it is about her, but…I want to protect her, know how she feels, you know?"

"Not to be rude, but aren't you a getting just a little ahead of yourself?" Faye said gently.

"Oh come on. You of all people should know what it feels like, Faye. To feel for someone so strongly?" Gray responded, which only caused her to look at him incredulously.

"I've known Alm since I was a small child, Gray. You just met Clair a week ago." Faye pointed out. "There's a difference."

"Seriously, do you realize how insane you sound? You sound like Tobin's mother whenever she talks about cooking." Kliff added, drawing a mean glare from the archer. "She hasn't so much as noticed you all day, not to mention she's been glancing at Alm every time she has a change. Sheesh, can't you take a hint?"

Gray merely looked down, defeated. "You guys are mean." He muttered out as they continued to talk about other things.

* * *

Late at night, everybody back to their tents. The Ram Villagers slept at their tents on one side, while Clair and Lukas slept on the other. Another indicator on the divide between noble and common.

Gray and Tobin volunteered to keep watch. During war, it was always wise to make sure one wasn't ambushed during the dead of night, and so the two patrolled the outskirts of camp, with only the crickets providing any sort of levity from the silence.

"Think everyone is finally asleep?" Gray asked as he handed Tobin a sword he snuck from the southern fort. It was handy to have a spare weapon, as well as for what there were about to do.

"Most likely, no one goes out this late." Tobin said as he unsheathed the sword and formed a battle stance, feet buried in the grass. He wasn't as well versed in the sword as he was in the bow, but Mycen trained him thoroughly, so he still made for a worthy training partner.

Gray unsheathed his own blade, glinting yellow in the moonlight. They both circled around each other, eyes fixed and ready for the other to make a move. The world around them stopped in each other's eyes. There was nothing but the opponent, the obstacle, and the way forward.

"Hah!"

Gray moved first, quickly and silently stepping on the grass as he swung his sword towards him, it was met by a resolute block from Tobin's blade. Gray whirled around and tried to strike his back, only to hit air as his opponent moved out of the way and countered, aiming for his neck. The mercenary whirled back as the blade nearly scraped it, readying for another set of blows.

All throughout the night they danced their little dance of steel. Slashes met parries as counters met other counters, the two were mirroring yet opposite as they fought, fluid as a river and just as unrelenting. Both sides didn't give in, and both had every intention of winning.

"Heh, glad to know you haven't gotten rusty." Gray said as he brandished his sword, looking for an opening, circling him and he circled back. He was sweaty, and his breath had become intense, but he was enjoying this. The thrill of combat, the risk that came with every move, and the victory or defeat that can come at any moment.

"What's wrong? Don't find me a challenge? Or are you too scared to ask Alm?" He taunted, trying to make him reckless. They were rivals, partners, and most of all, best friends. They know which buttons to push.

Gray leapt forward and swung his blade down, putting all his weight into it. Instead of blocking, Tobin hopped backwards, the blade hitting nothing. A vulnerability! He readied his sword and swung at him...

...Only for Gray to smirk at him as he ducked under the swing and thrust his sword forward, causing Tobin to lose balance and fall to the grassy floor below. He felt something point at his neck, a blade. Defeated.

"Heh, that's another win for me. You're slipping, bud." Gray said happily as he pulled Tobin up, both of them brushing grass off their clothes.

"Whatever. I'll just get you next time." Tobin said bitterly, though he didn't mean any malice behind it. As he sheathed his sword and tossed it to his friend, he looked serious for a moment. "Hey Gray, I gotta ask you something."

"Yeah?"

"Why are you training so hard? When we were just kids back in Ram, I've never seen you fight as intensely as you do." Tobin said. "Why the sudden change?"

Gray pondered that question for a moment, before responding. "Tobin, why are you fighting in this war?"

"Huh? Me? I want to get paid, earn some money for my family."

"That's just it." Gray said, sighing as his posture slumped slightly. "You're fighting for your family, Alm is fighting to free Zofia, Faye is fighting for Alm, and Kliff is fighting because...actually, I don't know what he's fighting for."

A voice answered his question for him. "I'm fighting because I had nothing better to do, and because I want to see more of the world."

Both men traded shocked looks before turning to the source of the voice, an annoyed looking Kliff, tome at his side. "Sheesh, you two thought you were being secretive?" He said, his tone just as annoyed as his face. "I'm surprised the whole camp didn't hear you two going at it."

The trio stared at each other and shared a laugh, even Kliff. But then Gray's face grew solemn once more. "But yeah, you guys all have something to fight for. I...feel like I'm just along for the ride. That I'm just tagging along, without anything to fight for. I've always asked myself "Why am I doing this?" and I've never been able to come with a good answer for that."

"Gray..." Tobin started to say, feeling quite concerned for him. How long has this been on his mind? How much has this been weighing down on him?

Gray simply smiled at the two. He was always good at smiling, even when he didn't have to. "Heh, it's alright. Not like I expected an answer so soon. I'm sure I'll stumble onto it eventually." He said cheerfully, the light in his eyes returning.

"Maybe." Kliff added. "Who knew you can think such deep thoughts?"

Gray just grumbled at his white-haired friend before the three exchanged another laugh. Despite the teasing or the occasional fight, they were inseparable as friends. It was what made them such an effective fighting team. Kliff suddenly opened his book.

"Anyways, I know I'm not going to get any sleep, so..." He flipped its pages and fire spread from it to his hand. "Let's make this interesting."

Tobin and Gray eyed each other before nodding and stepping back, Gray tossing a blade back to him as they prepared themselves for another round of dueling, with no one but the moon as their witness.

* * *

It nearly dawn when they returned to camp, trying to catch what little sleep they could. It clearly wasn't enough however, when they had to be forcibly woken up by Faye. She could see the wrinkles on their eyes.

"What is with you three? You look tired." Faye asked, concerned. Her answers were two loud groans from Gray and Tobin, and merely an annoyed look from Kliff. Faye simply let out a sigh. "I'm going to check on Alm, try to look decent in front of Lukas at least."

With that the pegasus rider left, leaving the three to wash their faces with water, muttering about last night, about some victory or other before being retorted with a failure. The three then prepared breakfast, a humble meal of stale bread with what was leftover of yesterday's stew.

As they were silently eating their meal, they heard footsteps approaching. Was it Lukas? They turned around and saw that it was actually Clair, her face blank of any expression.

Gray, as always when it comes to her, spoke first. "Heya, Clair. Slept well? It's not often you come to our side of camp."

Her face remained blank, not even annoyed at him. "Salutations, Gray. Lukas and Alm are busy with planning, so they sent me to inform you that we shall me marching in three hours. No dallying."

The three nodded, and she started to turn around, only to be stopped by Gray's voice. "Hey, listen Clair...I'm sorry about that Fernand thing. I didn't mean to cause trouble."

Clair looked at him, shocked slightly, before smiling. Not a forced one, but genuine, if a bit subdued. "No, it's alright. Fernand had no right to say those things. I can only hope you forgive him. He wasn't always like this."

The two looked at each other for a long while, an awkward silence forming before Clair simply turned around and left. Kliff smirked at him. "Well, at least she knows you exist."

"Yeah..." Gray said, uncontrollably smiling at the fact that she actually smiled at him. "This is already an amazing day.

The other two couldn't help but groan at him. _He's getting way too ahead of himself,_ they both thought.

 **And that's it for chapter two. I'll try to make chapters longer and longer as I go. But otherwise, I'll catch you next time where we finally reach the Deliverance Hideout -ArcanaHermit**


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

 _Rejection and Change_

 _Deliverance Hideout_

It was an oddly silent day for Python, who was testing his new bowstring's tautness. The usual moanings of Terrors that roam the graveyard turned hideout was absent this morning. Perhaps it's because they were used to the still living knights housed within, or perhaps they simply grew tired of it. Python didn't care. A moment of peace and quiet wasn't something he was going to argue with.

That is until he heard faint rustling coming from the entrance. At first he brushed it off as mere wind, but the sounds grew louder and louder. Footsteps. Cursing under his breath, the archer quickly hid in the room closest to him and notched an arrow. If it was the enemy, he'd at least take a few out and warn the others before falling. Lazy he may be off the battlefield, but he still knew a soldier's priorities.

 _Greeeat, the one time I get peace and quiet is the day the enemy shows up. Lucky me._

The footsteps-there were definitely multiple of them-were getting closer. He peeked out of the room to get a decent look, but the dimly lit hallway made it difficult. He could vaguely make out the shape of humans. Quietly, he drew his arrow and-

"Python? I know you're here." A familiar voice called out. Python instantly loosened his bow and cracked a smile. Maybe his day wasn't ruined after all.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Lukas." He said casually. "Almost thought you didn't make it? And I've seen you brought some company."

"Indeed." Lukas said, not lowering his posture one bit, which earned a slight scoff from Python. Ever the adherer of formality. "Sad to say, I was unable to recruit Sir Mycen, but I did bring his grandson, along with several of his companions that have also trained under Mycen. I can vouch for their worth"

On that cue, Alm and the others stepped forward and presented themselves to him. The green-haired youth spoke first. "I am Alm, and though I may not carry the experience my grandfather does, I swear to uphold his honor and fight with all I have."

"I can definitely see why you've impressed Lukas, formal talk and all that." He said, chuckling. "But you're free to talk however you like to me. Name's Python. Our leader Clive is waiting for you down below." He said, pointing at the seemingly endless darkness that protruded from the hallway.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaa!"

 _Huh. Talk about timing. Maybe they have something against me._

"Uhh, what was that?" Alm asked, naturally confused.

"Terrors" Python answered with a shrug. "They roam the halls of these graveyards."

"What? You have things like that in your hideout?" Tobin said out loud.

"Well, they were here first, and if we kill them more will just come forth so…" He replied and handed a torch to Alm. "They won't bother you unless you're right in front of them, so it's best if you just avoid them. Have fun, kiddos."

And with those parting words, the group ventured into the depths of the catacombs, the blue haired guard waving them goodbye before turning back. He could hear more moaning from the Terrors again, and hoped the group makes it to Clive without trouble. Wouldn't be good for morale if the newbies become Terror food before being formally inducted.

* * *

Gray and Tobin were walked about the hallway silently, with Kliff providing the trio with light from a fire spell. The three offered to watch their flank in case any Terrors roamed about, and it gave the time for them to talk of things anyways. It was much easier to pass the time that way, even if Kliff insisted that it was an annoyance.

Up ahead, not that far away was the rest of them. Clair was currently right beside Alm, chatting with him openly. They couldn't hear all the words of their conversation, but occasionally a sentence or two could be heard on their ears, and they could hear the noblewoman giggle more than once.

"Seems like they're having a fun conversation." Tobin remarked dryly. "I doubt Faye would be happy about that."

"Speak for yourself." Kliff remarked softly, trying his best not to be heard by anyone but the three of them. He pointed in the direction of Gray, who was quietly sulking as he heard more and more of his friend and the woman he liked enjoying each other's company.

The three shared an awkward silence as they heard more of the conversation. It seemed like Silque and Faye were also talking, and the two conversations were muddling each other. Gray was actually thankful for the interruption, much as he liked hearing her voice.

"Man, this place gives me the creeps." Gray commented, trying to steer the conversation away somewhere else. "I hope the entire hideout isn't like this, or I wouldn't be able to sleep at night."

The two nodded in agreement as they turned right into another hallway, hearing more and more of those moaning noises. They actually passed by a few of the Terrors before, and surprised even themselves by not screaming at the mere sight of them.

Twisted, horrid creatures of rotten flesh and black bones, the few they've encountered tried to jump at them, baring their teeth and claws. Thankfully while there were frightening, they were also slow, so they were able to mostly avoid or kill what Terrors they've come across. Still, the mere thought of these monstrosities hiding in the darkness still set them on edge.

"Look." Alm said suddenly. "I see a bright light. We're here."

They indeed saw a bright light straight ahead and several figures as well. They quickly ran towards it and saw that it was a Shrine of Mila, just like the one that they rescued Silque from. A blonde man in blue armor stepped forward. He had a fair face with a calm smile, and he greeted them eagerly.

"Hold. This place is a Shrine of Mila. You will find safety here. I presume one of you is Alm?"

"Yes, I am him." Alm said. "I am here to join the Deliverance, and fight to liberate Zofia."

"Ah, it is good to finally meet Sir Mycen's grandson." The man said. "I am Clive, leader of the Deliverance that fights against Desaix's tyranny. I gladly welcome you into our ranks."

Gray made an audible gasp as he revealed his name. Of course he likely knew who he was based on his looks, but seeing and, hopefully, fighting for the man told only to him in grandiose tales was another thing entirely. It was definitely a cathartic feeling.

Tobin nudged him on the shouldered and whispered. "Uhh...do you know him?"

Gray grumbled, broken out of his awe-filled reverie. He was tempted to shout out loud, but that would only embarrass him in front of so many people, Clive most of all. So he simply settled for a whisper. "I'm surprised you didn't know. That's Sir Clive, captain of the knights of Zofia. He's been in over a hundred battles and has distinguished himself in almost all of them. Even newborns know his name, Tobin."

"Okay, okay. I guess I should have known him." The archer replied, raising his hands defensively.

Unbeknownst to them, the last comment was loud enough to attract the attention of several people, who either looked at them with a stare or lightly chuckled. Clive, however, was unphased. "Come on in and rest. We have much to discuss, especially with you, Alm."

As the group unpacked their things and prepared to settle down in the new hideout, Gray looked around. There were men all around them, sharpening their weapons, conversing, some doing menial tasks while others do nothing at all. Despite that, there were still far less men than he was expecting. He caught a glance of a familiar figure, Fernand. They locked eyes for a bit, with him merely giving his usual frown towards Gray. The villager simply looked elsewhere.

* * *

In a separate chamber than the one that housed Mila's Shrine, Alm was invited by Clive to join the council room with the other Deliverance members. He noted Lukas and Clair were also present, along with Fernand who, as usual, gave a scowl towards him. Clive was last to enter the room, with a green-haired soldier accompanying him.

"Now then..." Clive began. "I'm sure you're all wondering about the state of the Deliverance. And as Forsyth has told me, it doesn't look good. The men's morale is starting to sink, and it's only going to sink further if we continue to linger here."

"Hmph." Fernand said rudely. "Tis what happens when you fill our ranks with baseborn curs, Clive."

"Blood has nothing to do with it." Clive responded calmly. The two friends, if they could even be considered that at this point, have had too many fights to count over the past weeks. He wasn't in the mood for another. "They feel as though the Deliverance has lost meaning. We haven't made progress and it's starting to dishearten the men."

"So what are you suggesting?" Lukas asked, voicing the question that everyone had on their mind.

Clive's response was a simple tap on the map spread out on the table before them, landing on Zofia Castle. "I suggest we take back the capital, and drive out Desaix once and for all."

His idea was met by surprise from all of them. He simply smiled. A leader must never look worried. "It isn't that far from here, and I'm told by what few spies we have left that the nephew of King Rudolf is going to be there. If we capture him, it'll only add more leverage against Rigel."

"Still, to assault such a heavily fortified castle is no easy task." Lukas warned. "I assume you have a plan, Sir Clive?"

"At the moment? No." He said bluntly "That's why I called you all here, to discuss how we're going to do this. Timing, positioning, and roles, that all must be settled before we leave this room. Do I have an agreement from all of you?"

"Um..." Alm said, a bit nervous.

"What is it, Alm? Speak frankly." Clive said, giving him a warm smile.

"I'm not sure why I'm here. I just got here and well...I'm sure that there are much better men that you can confide in, Sir Clive."

Inwardly, Clive took a deep breath and sighed. This was going to be difficult, but it had to be done. "Actually, there is a reason why you're here Alm. Let me explain."

* * *

Tobin was in the "storeroom" of the hideout, which was just a nearby chamber of graves filled with weapons. Tobin could only assume the people that once resided within those graves have risen as Terrors. Not a comfortable thought as he continued his give assignment.

He took a shiver at the mere thought of those things, and actually checked to see if any were behind him more than once. He moved over to the next grave, which was filled with bows and arrows, and quickly took them out to count them one by one. A meticulous and tedious task to be sure, but a necessary one nonetheless.

"Tobin?"

That echoing voice nearly made him jump as he quickly turned around and looked at who called out his name. The torchlight made her seem eerie and mysterious, but he recognized Faye.

"Need some help?" His friend asked. There was a frown on her face, and she was obviously troubled. Perhaps she needed to get something off her mind.

"Yeah..." He said, looking back at the grave full of arrows before moving to the last one, which was sealed shut. "Man, it's so dark in here, even with the torch. I really hope I didn't miscount. Help me push this?"

Faye approached him and started placing her hands on the lid, and Tobin did the same. They pushed together, and with a lot of effort managed to push it off the grave, revealing spears, knives, swords and axes.

Tobin quietly took count of each and every one before writing it down on parchment. He wasn't highly learned like a scholar, but Mycen at least taught him the basics of mathematics when he was young; always reminding the children that strategy and numbers was as important as courage and swordsmanship.

"So..." Tobin said as he pointed at the last weapon, scribbling. "Mind telling me what's on your mind?"

Faye just sighed. "It's nothing."

"When you sigh and say it's nothing, it's pretty obvious that it isn't, you know." He replied, putting the parchment away on his satchel. He turned to face her. "We've known each other for years, Faye. You can trust me."

She looked at him a giggled a bit. "I know. It's not like Alm's the only friend in my life, you know. It's just." Her face grew grim once more. "We're seeing Alm less and less now. The moment we joined, Sir Clive just took him away somewhere else. I wonder...if we'll stop seeing him altogether."

"Yeah, I feel the same way honestly." Tobin said. "He's the grandson of a famous knight. Even when we played together, I always knew he was destined for something greater than us."

"You're not making me feel better, you know." She replied in an even sadder tone.

"Ah." Tobin screamed out. "S-sorry, but there really isn't any way I could have said it. He really is destined for something greater than us. But he's still our Alm, right? I'm sure he won't forget us."

"Yeah..." Faye said, though she remained unconvinced. "Thanks for trying to cheer me up, I...guess."

"Hey, even if Alm isn't there for you, I'm still here." Tobin said, giving her his best smile. "Just come talk to me if you ever need it, even if I'm not exactly the best at conversations."

That made Faye giggle again, and she gave him a happier smile this time. "Thanks, Tobin. I'm glad you and the others are here with me."

They both nodded to each other and head back to the hideout proper, as they were both heading in, they were surprised by Fernand. He didn't even spare them a glance as he walked out of the hideout spear in hand, pure fury writ on his face.

"What's his deal?" Tobin groaned out before Gray approached them. "Hey, Gray. So, what caused him to leave in such a hurry?"

"Beats me. Not like I care about that jerk." He replied. "Sir Clive said that he had something big to announce, so he asked me to call you guys. Must be something big."

The trio headed to Mila's shrine, where Clive was standing before the rest of the Deliverance, Alm was beside him and despite his calm demeanour, he was all sorts of anxious.

* * *

 _Merciful Mila, please let me be doing the right thing._

"I'm sure all of you are wondering why I've called you here. For weeks now, we've been pushed back and suppressed by Desaix's men, forced into hiding. For that, I thank each and every one of you for enduring the same hardships as your fellow man, noble or common."

The audience grew silent as he continued his speech. Clive announced that they would be attacking Castle Zofia before the next full moon, a decision which led to a unanimous cheer from the soldiers.

"And that's not all. Recently, I've come to realize that my shortcomings are preventing this Deliverance from truly being the best that it can be, and that perhaps it's time for a new leader. One that has both commoner and nobility in his character, one that can truly lead this Deliverance to new heights."

On that queue, Alm stepped forward. Clive continued. "I've decided to pass on the mantle of leadership to Alm, grandson of Sir Mycen. He may be a youth, but I have confidence that he will truly lead us to glory."

The reaction was met with shocked, with several soldiers audibly gasping. There was a murmur building up within the ranks. Most of it was surprise, some of it was genuine curiosity and optimism. A small fraction voiced doubt and resentment.

"Sir Mycen's grandson? What happened to Sir Mycen himself?" "A boy leading us, has Clive lost his mind?" "I hear he lives in some village, how can he say that he has nobility in his character?"

As for his friends, they were shocked more than any of them. They knew Alm would rise far in the Deliverance, but to become its leader? And so soon?

"Um…" Alm said, and the crowd grew silent. "I know this is unexpected for all of you. Truth be told, when Clive brought up the proposal to me, it was unexpected to me as well. I have no experience in leadership, but I promise, I will fight with every inch of my body to see Zofia liberated, and I can only hope that I grow into a leader worthy of your respect."

The murmurs continued, though several cheers went up in favor of Alm as well. With a few parting words from Clive, the soldiers disbanded to continue to do their tasks, with the Ram villagers looking at each other, the question in their minds obvious.

 _If Alm is the leader, what becomes of us then?_

* * *

Evening dawned on the hideout as the light shining down turned from white to a radiant orange. Several campfires were already drawn out and raw food was being distributed for being cooked. Gray was among those gathering food in what was essentially the mess hall, an empty alcove where a shoddy looking table held raw meats and vegetables.

The alcove was surprisingly empty, though that could be because he was one of the last to get food. He looked over a spotted Clair gathering food as well, though she looked at the raw food as if it were diseased-ridden, gently handling it with two fingers as she placed it onto a tray she held.

"Hey, Clair." Gray called out.

Clair turned around to face him, a look of slight annoyance on her face. "Salutations, Gray. What a shame, I thought you were Alm for a second."

 _Ouch, way to twist the knife._ Gray though as he went forward and picked the allotted amount of food for his group. He could just leave, but a certain someone was compelling him to stay.

"So, uh...Why exactly did Fernand run off like that? He seemed really mad." Gray asked, more out of curiosity than anything.

That however, only made her anger more apparent. "He and my brother had some...disagreements .That is all I will say on the matter, now if you'll excuse me, the lady has some important duties to attend to."

"Wait, Clair." Gray called out as she walked away. "I..."

"Gray." Clair said, not even turning around to face him. "What is it that you desire from me?"

"Um, your friendship..." He responded, though even he knew it sounded weak.

"Is that all? The lady can't help but think you're lying." She responded, back still turned towards her.

"Alright, you want the truth?" Gray said, knowing that if he answered this now, it would only lead to hurt for him. "I know it may seem like I'm insane but...I'm in love with you."

There was tension in the air as Clair tried to process that answer. She was thankful no one else was here to witness this. "You are right about one thing, Gray, you have gone mad. How could you claim you love me when you've barely known me?"

"I don't know." Gray said desperately. And he truly didn't how he had come to love her, but he knew he did nonetheless. "I just never felt this way before, with any other girl. I..."

Clair soft, tired sigh instantly made him silence. "Let me spell this out for you, Gray. You are NOT in love with me; you simply wish to have me like some prize to be won. You don't know a single thing about me yet you lavish me with superficial praise thinking it would woo me like some gushing princess."

Every word cut him deeper and deeper, and he could refute none of it. It even surprised him that he could respond at all. "But...that's not how I feel at all..."

"Yes, poor you." Clair said sarcastically. "And have you no considerations towards my feelings, and not just yours? The man I find worthy of my hand is one who knows me before he loves me. Now, never speak to me again."

And with those cruel parting words, Clair left Gray, who felt rather numb after the brutal and admittedly completely deserving lecture. They have only met for a couple of days, and all he did was pester her without end. What right did he have at her affections?

 _None, none at all._ He reminded himself. Recalling that he had friends waiting for him, he quickly took the rest of his food and hurried out. Hopefully he could hide how bad his mood has turned.

* * *

The hope of his sorrow going unnoticed also turned out to be futile as well, as they began eating by the campfire Gray noticed that the Ram Villagers were glancing at him as they ate and talk in their little corner of the hideout, the rest of the soldiers paying them no mind. He tried his best to fit in and converse as normal, but he supposed his tone gave it away.

"Hey, everything alright there?" Tobin asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Gray responded half-heartedly. "Just...thinking about things, you know? Anyways, you guys were saying?"

The other three stared at him with looks of concerned, which only made him annoyed. Faye decided to continue the discussion they had.

"Alm is with Sir Clive, planning the assault on Castle Zofia. No doubt as leader of the Deliverance that he'd choose seasoned knights to serve as his personal unit." Faye muttered depressingly.

The implications of that were left hanging in the air, leaving the friends rather glum. They could still hear their friend's words, announcing himself as leader of the Deliverance. That left so many questions for them to ask, questions that sadly did not have an answer.

One thing was certain though, things have definitely changed.

"Hey kiddos." A voice called out. The villagers turned around to see that it was Python, smiling and waving at them. "I figured I'd check up on you lot, see how the newcomers are doing."

"Oh, we're doing well, Sir Python." Faye said. "Um...shouldn't you be with Sir Clive, planning the assault?"

"Oh, that? Nah, strategy isn't really my thing." The archer replied nonchalantly. "Besides, I hear Clive and the other nobles are celebrating our new leader. He's a friend of yours, right?"

The four nodded. "Hmm, surprised you guys weren't invited. Then again, nobles rarely invite the people who make their food in the first place, being all high and mighty and all that. Clive's alright though, as is his sister, even if she can be a bit of a brat sometimes. Rumor has it she has a thing for your friend over that."

"Great." Gray whispered sarcastically, enough so that no one heard it but him.

"Well anyways, glad to see you're fitting in." Python finished as he turned around and started walking away. "My stomach is killing me so I'll be going now. Do me a favour and try not to tell anyone what I said about nobles. Be seeing you guys."

With him leaving, the Ram Villagers looked at each other in slight confusion before continuing to eat, discussing other matters with each other. Still, the talk was sparse as everyone had their own thoughts to digest with.

Once the food was done, Gray and Kliff took all the plates and went to wash them, leaving Faye and Tobin alone by the fire. The two stayed silent, Faye looking rather miserable as she tried to get her thoughts in order.

"Um...Faye..." Tobin said softly. "Are you...going to be alright?"

Faye nodded quietly, looking into the fire with a blank stare. She simply sighed and continued to stare at it, pondering about the future.

Things have definitely changed.

 **And that concludes chapter 3. Feel free to leave any feedback in the comments. In the next chapter, we change to a new point of view before finally beginning our assault on Castle Zofia. Till then -ArcanaHermit**


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4:_

 _The Battle of Zofia_

 _Deliverance Hideout_

Even at night, the shrine of Mila gave off a soft light that permeated towards the hideout. It gave little comfort to the Deliverance however. The constant moanings of Terrors only increased as the night went on. Some soldiers slept normally, some lost consciousness eventually due to exhaustion, and some never could sleep.

The golden-haired noble was among the latter, though the sounds of those brutish creatures were admittedly the least of her annoyances. As Clair left her sleeping quarters (though in truth it was nothing more than a shoddy alcove, hardly noble-like), he couldn't help but crack a frown at the thought of the two men that aggravated her to no end.

"Oh Fernand." She finally sighed out, to no one in particular. "Why couldn't you see sense? Why couldn't you stay?"

Her mind wandered to those scant hours ago, though to her it felt like it only occurred a few seconds past.

* * *

" _I shall take no more part in this….in this madness." The noble said, angrily pushing his friend towards the wall. "You have tainted this Deliverance to the point that I can no longer recognize it, and I will follow it no longer."_

" _Fernand…" Clive said. "Please calm down, this change is the best for everyone. We need someone who can rally the commoners as well as the nobility, he's Sir Mycen's grandson and…"_

 _His attempts at calming him only made him more furious. "Curse Sir Mycen and whatever whelp he was birthed from. The fact that you let a boy, and a common-born boy at that, lead this army is a farce in itself. I will not stand around and see this army crumble because an inexperienced child led it to its doom, Clive. I will not."_

" _Fernand…"_

 _The two friends stared at each other, the others in the room remaining in an awkward silence, before Fernand finally let go of his friend and began to walk out._

" _Fernand, wait…" Clair started to say, but he merely turned his head towards her, the fury in his eyes making her flinch. He didn't even bother to say anything before storming out of the room._

* * *

The memory still stung her, and despite the cheerful face she put on in front of her brother and Alm, she was still deeply hurt at his leaving. In the end, the grudge of his family's death still runs deep, deep enough to abandon both Clive and her.

As she walked around the hideout quietly, unsure as to her purpose, she noticed that she wasn't the only one awake at this late hour. She could hear vague sounds, whispers in the distance. She could see a low fire, embers still emitting a faint light, and a figure poking with a stick, another quickly approaching him.

"So, they all asleep?" The voice poking the fire asked.

"Yep. Though honestly, I'm surprised anyone can with all the Terrors." The other voice responded, sitting opposite him. His face revealed himself to be Tobin, which meant the other figure is…

Anger suddenly welled up in her again. Gray's attempt at wooing and courting her were unsubtle and ungentlemanly like, to say the least. She didn't regret rejecting him.

Except…

True, she was angry at him to a degree, but she admittedly sounded much harsher to him than intended. The stress of her brother and Fernand fighting, on top of his departure, just made her much more irritable when he inevitably came to shower her with more empty compliments. Truth be told, pestering aside he actually respected the man and his abilities, but the words she said to him back then still held true.

"Heh, this reminds me of the time we used to sneak out as kids." Gray said, with fondness in his voice. "We almost got caught a couple times, but we never did."

"I always thought that they just allowed us to sneak out." Tobin responded, cracking a wry smile. "I remember when we sneaked some ale just to find out what it tasted like. Honestly, I hated the stuff."

"Yeahh, I was the only one who liked it, guess I'm the mature of the group." Gray said jokingly, and they both laughed. "Ahhh…you know, I'm really glad you're here. It's nice to be able to just say what I want to, no need to hide anything."

"Speaking of hiding something, what exactly happened back at dinner?" Tobin asked. "Don't tell me we believed you're alright with how glum you looked back there."

Clair was eavesdropping, and she realized that she should have left and forget about the conversation, especially one this personal. But something, be it curiosity or something else, compelled her to stay and listen.

"I was that obvious, huh?" Gray said sadly. "Alright, but promise not to tell anyone else. You're the only one I can talk to this about."

Tobin nodded, and Gray continued. "Well when I was getting food, I bumped into Clair and uh…well, let's just say things didn't go so well."

"Since when have things between you and Clair have ever gone well?" Tobin said.

"Yeah, but this time it's worse." Gray responded, sounding genuinely hurt. "She told me never to speak to her again, and I think she really meant it."

Out of their sight, Clair was pondering his words. It's true, she demanded he never spoke to her again, but once she cooled down, she wondered how much of her statement was true and how much was it blind anger at recent circumstances? It's not as if he was actively trying to offend her, and truth be told there was a certain…something…to his unsightly attempts at wooing her, she just wasn't sure what.

Did she truly want him out of her sight? She didn't have the answer at the moment.

"Ouch." Tobin responded. "But let's face it, women like that are out of our league. We'd be lucky to even work under her in normal circumstances, let alone work with her. Still, you're taking this way harder than I'd imagine."

"That's because I'm actually in love with her." Gray said, almost to the point of waking everyone in the hideout. "I don't know why, and I don't know how, but I'm just…drawn to her, you know? I can't help it."

Clair kept her silence in order to remain discreet, but if she was somehow caught by the two, she still wouldn't know what to say.

"Huh. You really mean it." The archer said, surprised. This was the first time Gray brought up any romantic feelings, and for him to be this sincere about it was most likely a sign of it's authenticity, however absurd it may be. "Well, what are you going to do now?"

"What she told me to, never talk to her again." Gray responded sullenly. "I don't want to, but what choice do I have? If that's what she really wants, then I might as well respect that."

Clair didn't have the heart to eavesdrop on their conversation anymore; she quietly went back to her own quarters to think things over while the two men continued their conversation by the fire. Turning around, she saw a silver haired figure eyeing her, with an annoyed look on his face. Kliff. They stared at each other for a moment, before he shrugged and went back to his sleeping area.

Sitting on her sleeping straws, she lay down; finally feeling exhausted enough to sleep. But her mind kept trailing off to that conversation, and how hurt Gray sounded. She thought a good long while, and realized that what she had been insensitive and rude, rather unbecoming of a lady.

She wouldn't reciprocate his feelings, her sights were set on Alm and Alm alone, but she would, when the opportunity arises, confront him and apologize. She may never be his, but she could still be his friend and fellow soldier, she thought of as much.

* * *

Dawn cracked as the Deliverance headed out of the hideout en masse, glad to be leave the Terrors to their dens. None stayed as per Clive's orders. Everyone here knew the situation; they would take Castle Zofia or die trying.

As always, the Ram Villagers traveled together, with the ever increasing absence of Alm, and Faye, who had gone scouting with the other pegasi knights. The group kept their silence as they marched along the plains, the army separating into numerous splintered fractions in order to hide their actual numbers from Desaix's forces.

"So…no one spoke to Alm this morning?" Tobin asked at last, breaking the silence. The rest of the group nodded. "Oh…"

"Python told me that Alm's got something important to tell us before we fight in Zofia." Gray responded, hand on his hip. "Don't know what that "something important" is though, could be bad."

Lukas, who was beside them, cracked a reassuring smile. "I'm sure he wants to bring the news to you all himself because you're his friend, and I can assure you the news is for the best."

Tobin and Gray simply looked at each other in bewilderment before continuing the march, each step taken a step closer to Castle Zofia. Tension was building up among the ranks. A climatic battle will soon be upon them.

* * *

Within the throne room of Castle Zofia, Desaix was comfortably enjoying his new seat of power. Sipping from the late king's goblet, the chancellor wondered why he didn't kill the fool sooner. It didn't matter in the end, he though, Rigel would soon take all of Zofia and he'll be lavished with all the prestige as the new King of Zofia.

"Hah, are you watching from hell, Lima? Watch as I burn away any traces of your pathetic reign." He said with a wry smirk on his portly face.

"Sir!" A voice called out as Curtis, the man he placed in charge of Zofia's guards marched in, two of his castle guards dragging a man in, his face covered by a sack. "We've found this man sneaking into the castle."

Curtis pulled away to reveal Fernand, his eyes empty of purpose. He looked at Desaix and growled.

Desaix wasn't intimidated at all, though he was surprised. "Well, this is rather unexpected. I thought you would be with Clive the rest of the Deliverance, Sir Fernand."

Fernand simply spat out, raw anger in his voice. "The "Deliverance" I was once a part of is no more, filled with baseborn curs and upstart commoners, Clive has given away his pride as a nobleman and placed Sir Mycen's grandson as its new leader."

Those last few words made Desaix jump from the throne. "What? Sir Mycen's…" He managed to withhold his tongue from Fernand, uneasy as to what to think of this. After a few moments, he made another smirk. Supposed spawn of Mycen or no, he still won't be able to take this castle. Still, there was the matter of the captured noble before him.

"There, I've spoken what I wish to. Now execute me and be done with it." Fernand said, hanging his head up high. He would die a deserter, but not a traitor.

"No…" Desaix said after a bit of thinking, much to surprise of everyone in the room. "In fact, untie him."

Curtis wanted to voice and objection, but meekly did as he was told, undoing the bonds around Fernand. The silver haired prisoner was unamused. "Is this some sort of jest? Do you intend to torture me?

"Hardly, my friend." Desaix responded in a faux respecting tone. "As a fellow champion of nobility, I believe we both have the same goals in mind, now there is someone I'd like you to meet."

Standing from the throne, he walked towards a nearby door, and Fernand silently followed. Opening it, he could see two figures dancing. One of them was a man dressed in all black armor, his well kept black hair and sharp eyes making for a fair face. The other was a woman was wearing a well made sapphire dress that matched her eyes, and a fur coat outside it. Both exuded an aura of regality.

As they joined and parted and twirled, Fernand couldn't help but be mesmerized by their movements, as though they were trying to entrance him on purpose. The male flashed him a glance and he felt himself shiver.

As last, they stopped, and the couple turned to look at him, a smile on their faces. Without even being prompted, Fernand approached them.

* * *

"Alright, here's the plan." Alm laid out as the Deliverance vanguard camped just outside of Castle Zofia, it's white walls glistening orange from the sunset. The rest of the army was hiding out in a nearby forest, once again to hide their actual numbers.

Lukas, Clive, Clair, Python and Forsyth were present, as are the Ram Villagers. "We need to take the archers patrolled on the wall of the castle. Once we do, our pegasus riders can swoop in and harass their ranks while our ground forces push in. Our intelligence reports that Desaix himself lacks any air support, so we'll use that against him."

"Not bad, kid." Python remarked, with Forsyth barely restraining himself with reprimanding him for his couth demeanor. Then again, this meeting war really just for show more than anything, they all knew the plan. "But there's one hiccup in this plan of yours, how are we going to take down those archers?"

"There's a secret passage towards the Castle that no one knows about." Clive remarked "Built to secretly escape Castle Zofia, its existence entrusted only to…certain members of the knights of Zofia, I among them. It leads directly to the keep, which connects directly to the walls."

"That's what we'll use. A small unit to both remove the archers and throw open the gates. Once we're done, we can circle back to the keep while Desaix is busy with the men outside, and flank them from two ends."

He then turned to Clive. "I'll lead the group heading into the keep. Clive, seeing as how you're the most experienced among us, I request you to lead the outside forces, and to coordinate with both my group and the pegasus riders."

Clive bowed slightly. "It will be by honor." They

"As for my unit, Phyton, Silque, Tobin, Gray, Lukas and Kliff will be with me." Alm said, much to the surprise of the Ram Villagers.

"Hey, Alm?" Tobin said. "Are you sure you want us? I'm sure there are much more…you know, experienced knights that could do this."

"Perhaps." Alm said, smiling confidently. "But I don't know them as much as I know my friends, and I don't trust them with my life as much as I trust you all. You'll all be my personal unit in the Deliverance, which was the only thing I demanded when I became leader. So, are you guys with me?"

Tobin was just about to voice another objection before Gray cut him off, excited. "Like you even need to ask us, dummy. We've got your back."

Alm bowed in appreciation before they got back to their discussion of timings and positions. They then dismissed to individually prepare for the battle ahead. Clair wanted to call out for Gray, but he left before she could speak anything. Instead, Faye approached her and smiled.

"Well, guess we're working together, Clair." Faye said in a neutral tone.

"I-Indeed, consider it an honor, Lady Faye. Now, let us go and prepare ourselves for the coming battle." Clair said. There'll be time for apologies later, now they have a kingdom to take back.

* * *

 _Zofia Keep, Interior_

Python was hugged up against a wall, peeking ever so carefully around the corner. The door to the walls was behind there, and two guards were guarding the entrance to the walls above. He motioned over to the rest, two fingers outward to indicate the number of threats, and then he prepared his bow in silence.

In a flash, he sidestepped the corner and loosened his bowstring, the arrow sent flying over to one of the guard's neck. The other only had a split second before Tobin's arrow was struck in his neck, preventing him from screaming. Both slumped on the floor dead in seconds, the first casualties.

"Up there leads to the walls." Python said, memorizing the map of the keep, as well as usual patrol routes. It was one of the tasks that surprisingly didn't require much effort on his end, though even if it was he'd still be forced to do it. "No turning back now."

"I'll lead the charge." Alm said, brandishing his metal shield. "Ranged units, cover me and take out any distant archers. Lukas, Gray, cover my sides and make sure nothing gets through our line. Silque, heal anyone who gets injured immediately. Are you all with me?"

The rest of the group nodded, Lukas nodded with a look of stoic determination, Gray and Python smirked, and Kliff simply gave his trademark frown. Alm couldn't help but feel confident in his group.

"Alright then Deliverance, let's go." Alm remarked before marching towards the stairs.

Once they got up there, there was merely utter surprise as the group reached up. Arrows and magic were immediately sent flying towards the guards, who were still looking beyond the horizon. Once their moment of surprise was gone, the guards frantically tried to scream and attack back.

Utter chaos ensued as Alm's group raced towards the wall. Time was of the essence, and they couldn't afford to waste a single second. Blocking an arrow with his shield, he swung his blade at a charging guard, cutting the pole of the lance before ending it with a backwards slash to the chest.

Two more charged at the group, but were immediately dealt with by a blast of fire that sent them falling from the walls. Kliff prepared another incantation as lightning struck a nearby group of archers, sending them flying.

Lukas and Gray were fending off more melee attackers. Gray parried a blow from an oncoming enemy before swiftly stabbing him in the chest, while Lukas was already thrusting his spear at a downed enemy, finishing him off.

As they fought under the sunset, the enemy was pushing back and getting more desperate. One person even dropped his weapon and surrendered, but was met with an arrow from Python. Now wasn't the time for prisoners, now wasn't the time for mercy.

"Alright." Alm said as he wiped sweat from his brow, his sword bloody. The last of the guards were killed or disabled, Lukas was walking around, checking for survivors. "Let's get the gate open."

* * *

 _Castle Zofia, Knight's Meeting Room_

Tracing his fingers over the familiar elm table, Fernand quietly looked around the empty room, to a world that seemed not so long ago yet infinitely farther away, a time when he laughed, where he smiled.

He was surprised to know that he had free rein over the Castle, save for escaping. Whether it was Desaix or Lord Berkut's decision didn't matter to him. Even if escape was possible, where would he go? The life he wanted to have was no longer there.

"Father, Mother. What do I do?" Fernand whispered softly, remembering their warm faces, their gentle smiles. But at the end of that chain was a different face. Closed eyelids, blood all over, beaten and trampled to the point where they could barely be recognized.

He gritted his teeth once more at the bitterness, desperately fighting back the urge to lunge at something, anything. Knighthood, charity, kindness, what did it all gave him in the end? A dead family, at the hands of the people he himself treated with those gentle virtues.

"They whine and complain even as we try to share their burden, their pain." He said to no one in particular or perhaps for everyone to hear. "We gave them food, and they repay us with bodies. Spoiled scoundrels, the lot of them. Damn them all!"

" _It wasn't their fault"_ A familiar voice called out in his head, the voice of a friend. _"They were desperate, and they didn't know what to do."_

"And what would you have done, Clive, were you in my situation?" He lashed out. "Would you have just stood there and forgive as the commoners ripped your sister to shreds? Or your beloved? Where does the line end?"

As his voiced echoed out throughout the empty chamber, he took a seat he would have back when Zofia was still at peace, Clive and Mathilda at his side.

He recalled happier times, him and Mathilda reassuring Clive, the three spending countless hours discussing about the betterment of Zofia, for both noble and common, and for once in a very long time, he smiled. He couldn't help but yearn for those days, for when bitterness didn't have such a vice on his heart.

His brief happiness was broken when someone entered the chamber. It wasn't someone he recognized, so he must have assumed he was Rigellian. "You are to come with me now, Lord Berkut has summoned you."

Silently, he stood up and followed the guard. He took little pleasure in being told what to do, but he had to admit Lord Berkut made an immense impression of him, which only furthered during their first conversation, where he spouted about the importance of the nobility over the common folk, as though he knew exactly what to say to get him to listen.

He found himself near the top of the castle, the sun slowly setting down. Lord Berkut and Rinea were watching below, where sounds of battle were raging on. "It seems your little worms have arrived sooner than anticipated."

Taking a look for himself, he could see that the Deliverance was indeed fighting Desaix's forces. He could vaguely make out Desaix's figure, barking orders as Deliverance cavalry marched through the gates and engaged the defensive lines.

"It seems the gates weren't forced open, I wonder how they did it." Berkut asked, more perplexed than angry. Fernand, who knew about the secret passages, kept silent. "It makes no matter, whether Desaix wins or loses is of little consequence to me." He raised his arms to the sky. "Soon this world will be ours, dear Rinea, to shape how we see fit."

Rinea said nothing for a while, flustered, before meekly responding. "All I wish is to be by your side, my lord."

Berkut turned to face him, a sinister smirk on his face. "It can also be your world as well, Fernand. A world where nobles are undisputedly superior, where commoners dare not even think of defiance. Is that not a world you wish for?"

* * *

"Deliverance! March on. Fight until Desaix's head rolls on the floor." Tobin heard someone shout, not that he heeded it much. Alm's group had finally fought their way out of the keep and into the courtyard.

Thankfully security had been lax, even more so when the gate threw opened and Zofian cavalry marched in. Still, he felt his arms ache a little, and his head wasn't entirely functional, but he pushed it aside. The battle isn't over yet.

As expected, the lack of any air support meant the downfall for Desaix's ranks. Wave after wave, Clair and Faye swooped down and swung their lances swift and true, and men fell in droves as they continued their aerial assault, their pegasi too fast to be hit by swords or axes. This, coupled with the cavalry charge, would have broken most.

But not this enemy. Whether it was experience, anger, or even fear, they continued to hold the line against the cavalry charge, sticking out spears to fell horses, their riders soon joining them. Rigellian cantors assisted, sending dark miasma to cripple men, clutching at their throats as the life escaped them.

Still, they were being pressed hard, and with Alm's appearance, the morale of the Deliveranced soared. They attacked the side of the line, their part of the battle being nothing more than running the enemy ragged while the rest charge in.

Tobin launched another arrow into the throat of another soldier, his twentieth kill. Immediately he went for another in a rhythm of tightening and loosing his bowstring, only stopping to dodge incoming fire or to get a better shot.

He notched another arrow from his quiver and aimed at a person, but just as he was about to fire a flash of white swooped in and stabbed him in the chest. Faye took a quick glance at Tobin, before nodding gently and taking for the skies, out of reach and looking for the next target. He also glanced a bit at Clair swooping down and knocking several men off their feet, an elegant sight that he'd enjoy if not for the fact that he was preoccupied.

"Damn it." Alm shouted, snapping back at his attention. "Those Cantors are giving us trouble. Archers, focus your fire on them. We'll hold them off."

Heeding the order, Tobin aimed at a nearby Cantor and loosed his arrow, hitting him straight in the neck as blood oozed out from him, his purple eyes softening. If this were his first battle, he might have reviled in horror. Now he simply notched another arrow and tried to find his next target.

Slowly but surely Desaix's forces were being pushed back further and further, their morale almost at the breaking point. Desperate, the enemy forces started charging through their lines haphazardly, some breaking through. A soldier charged through a hole in the line aiming for him specifically, only to be cut down by Gray, who simply smiled at him and turned his attention back.

" _This is almost too easy."_ Tobin thought. _"Maybe I shouldn't have worried so much after all."_

* * *

Desaix was fuming. How could some upstart rebellion be causing so much trouble? He wrenched an officer by the throat and demanded. "HOW ARE YOU FAILING?"

"S-sir." The officer whimpered. "We have no archers left, and the Cantors are nearly exhausted. We don't have anyone left who can deal with those two fliers. They keep disrupting our ranks."

Forcefully pushing him aside, not caring that his head hit the wall with a visible crack. He walked out and surveyed the battle, gritting his teeth. He will not be made a mockery in front of the Lord Berkut, not when his place as the new ruler of Zofia was so close. Many thought Desaix a coward who only knew how to hide behind others, oh how he will prove them wrong.

"Some things you have to do yourself." He said, teeth still gritting. He took a spear and looked at the sky, where two winged menaces were zipping about, the cause of all this trouble. Bracing himself, he took a deep breath and focused, waiting for the perfect time.

The lines were barely holding, yet he still waited…

His Cantors were being pinned by enemy fire, yet he still waited…

Lord Berkut was looking down at him, disappointed. Yet he still waited…

"RAAHHHH!"

With a shout and an almost monstrous strength, he hurled the spear up. It zipped through the winds like a bird of prey and struck a pegasus, ripping off its left wing, desperately trying to keep its golden haired rider afloat.

It failed, landing harshly down right below Desaix. The chancellor smirked as Clair was pinned down by the corpse of her mount, struggling to get out. The other pegasus rider wisely fled back to the Deliverance, fearful of another javelin toss.

"Haha, now we'll show Clive the price for daring to oppose ME!" Desaix roared out as the men regained some semblance of morale. Brandishing his large lance, he stepped down from his podium, smiling gleefully as he did so. "This one is mine."

* * *

The look on Clair's face could be none other than one of fear as she saw him approach, she tried desperately to get flee, but her legs were still pinned. As he approached her, she closed her eyes and prayed to Mila that her death would be quick.

"In better times, I would have simply taken you away, but you've irritated me too much, girl." Desaix growled, spear raised high. "Now die!"

" _Is this how it ends? Clive, I'm so sorry"._ She bemoaned in her mind, expecting those to be the last thoughts she'd ever had.

"STAY AWAY FROM HER!"

* * *

Gray's heart sunk as he saw Clair plummet from the sky, like an angel falling to earth. Worse still, she was straight in the middle of the enemy. Timed seemed to stop as she hit the ground, but the swordsman rushed towards her before it even happened, not caring about anything, not the battle at hand, not the enemy, all that mattered was that she was in danger.

"Clair!" He shouted futilely, rushing towards her, not caring that what enemy was in his way. " _I have to protect her"_ was the only thought that raced through his mind as he charged the enemy, two spearman locking shields. She only had a few seconds left

"Out of my way!" He sputtered as he aimed the lightning shaped blade forward, the sky seeming to blacken as the blade crackled and shot out a single blot, blasting one of the spearmen away. The other one, unaffected by his comrade's death, charged forward with his spear while he was still channeling, but was struck by an arrow.

Gray turned slightly around to see Tobin, who simply shouted. "Damn it, go get her. Alm told us to cover for you!"

" _Heh, thanks buddy."_ He thought. To Alm, or Tobin, he didn't know. Probably both.

Gray nodded at his best friend before charging again. Arrows and fire raced past him towards the enemy lines, creating a hole for him. He saw that a person was about to skewer her on a lance. Anger and desperation building up, he increased his speed.

"STAY AWAY FROM HER!" He shouted out as he barely blocked the spear, the force of the blow feeling like nothing else. Still, he saved her, if only for the moment.

"Gray…" Clair whispered as she opened her eyes. Desaix, however, was annoyed at this sudden turn of events.

"Who are you to interrupt me?" He shouted as he slammed the spear down once again, the blow forcing Gray down on one knee. "Stupid commoner, know you place."

Another blow, the tiles around Gray's feet started to crack, and he felt as though an entire waterfall was swarming on him at once. Another blow, he grunted in pain as he felt it. Another blow and the grunt became a shout as he felt his knee break. Yet he still stood.

"Hmph, just die already." Desaix barked, slamming his spear down another time, Gray barely blocking. His consciousness was getting blurry, his knee was internally shattered, and he still held. Whether from foolhardy arrogance or some diving force, he didn't know nor did he care. All he cared about was keeping her safe. Another blow, and another, and another, for what seemed like hours he struck at him, and he did not fall.

Clair was staring at him, tears visible in the corner of her eyes. She was saying something, but he couldn't hear what it is, he was too tired. Another strike would be the end of him, the end of them both. But he still kneeled defiantly.

"I…won't…let you touch her…" He growled out. Desaix simply raised his spear, determined to end it…

…until an arrow went whizzing towards him, barely blocked by his Dracoshield in time. He finally turned around to the battlefield and saw that the damage was done. His army's lines were irrevocably broken and they would soon be upon him.

"Damn. I must withdraw." He muttered, but not before giving Gray one last gaze. "Consider yourself lucky, boy. Next we meet, I'll show you pain the likes you've never felt before."

As he ran away, what remained of his men tagging along, surrendering or being killed, Clair finally mustered the strength to left her mount slight enough to get off, and immediately rushed to her savior. He was still kneeling, and breathing hard. Blood formed around his arm and his leg was shaking. His eyes closed, then opened, then close…

He finally fell towards the ground, and Clair's heart stopped.

 **And that's where we'll end it. This took longer than usual thanks to it being a longer than usual chapter. Next time, we'll see both the repercussions and benefits of Alm taking up leadership. Till then –ArcanaHermit**


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5:_

 _Reconciliation_

Gray felt as though he was in a deep abyss as his mind drifted between unconsciousness, his mind in an odd sense of serenity. He didn't care about time or feeling, just comfortable with the fact that he completed a mission he scarcely remembered at this point

" _Wake up…"_

A soft voice slowly rang though his head, repeating those two words to him. Slowly, he began to stir. He couldn't stay here forever, he needed to…needed to…

Gray opened his eyes and felt himself in a comfortable bed; more comfortable than anything he ever slept it. Looking at his surroundings, he noticed that he was in some private room, with an open window to the city beyond Zofia and lavish furnishings. In the corner was a blue haired priestess who was happily singing a hymn, his patient's awakening unnoticed. Gray tried to move his head…

"Argh."

Only to groan at the effort which immediately drew the attention of Silque, who turned around immediately. "Gray! Thank the Mother, you're awake."

Trying to speak, he instead found his lips too dry to, managing only a couple of words. "Water…water…"

Silque quickly acquiesced to his request and gave him a waterskin. Holding it felt heavy to him, almost as if it was made of steel, but he took a full drink of it nonetheless.

"Where…am I?" He asked, a little his strength returning to him.

"You're in Castle Zofia. Alm has arranged for a private room for your recovery." Silque said, giving him another waterskin once he emptied the first. "You've been asleep for two days, and many things have happened since then."

"Man…and I thought I was lazy before." Gray quipped, eliciting a giggle from Silque. He tried once again to move, but found that his right leg stung whenever he even tried. He saw that it was covered in bandages.

"Your knee was heavily injuired in the battle. It'll heal, but you need to be gentle with it." Silque warned before standing up. "Now, I must inform the others that you've regained consciousness."

And with barely a word she left, leaving Gray to ponder about things. Two days isn't much, but he still wondered what transpired in those days he missed. He's sure his friends would most likely tell him, but his mind still reeled with questions. Giving up and laying down on the bed, he decided to let rest and not think about things too much.

* * *

"Gray" A multitude of voices called out as the room was suddenly filled with people: His friends from Ram, Silque, Clive…and Clair.

"Glad to see you awake, buddy." Tobin said, grinning widely at his friend. "The halls were too quiet without your noise around."

"Speak for yourself." Gray said, smiling back. It was good to be with people you trust, people you were fighting for. Perhaps he didn't need a reason to fight, as long as he has his friends with him.

"I'm glad you're recovering Gray." Alm said in a slightly more formal tone. "Silque said that you'll be recovering in a few days. Once you are, we'll be marching towards Desaix's castle and end this one and for all."

"So the bastard escaped, huh?" Gray said, lying down with a disgusted look on his face, remembering the smug noble that nearly killed him. If possible, he'd like to return the favor. "Sorry about charging in blindly like that, I guess I sorta got ahead of myself."

"There's nothing you need to apologize for." Clive said, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, a feeling that sent a jolt of pride down Gray's body. "You've risked your life to save my sister from harm, and for that I cannot express the amount of gratitude I have for you. If there is anything you want in return, all you need to do is ask."

Gray simply shook his head. "Thank you, Sir Clive, but I'll pass. There's nothing I really want right now. Knowing that she's safe is enough." That was a lie, of course. There were a lot of things he wanted, but he didn't feel like being handed something was worth it. As he recalled Mycen said, so long ago _. "Being given something is worthless; earning something through your deeds is priceless."_

"You are very kind, Gray. Know that I am forever in your debt." Clive said. "If you ever have a change of heart, feel free to say so."

With that, the knight bowed out and left, claiming he had some duties to attend to. Alm and the rest also left to attend to their responsibilities as well, leaving only him and Clair.

There was an awkward silence in the air as the two looked at each other, not speaking a word. Gray couldn't help but blush and tried to look away, but his eyes wouldn't move an inch. Finally, the pegasus rider spoke.

"Gray…" Clair said, her tone softer than usual. "Thank you, for saving my life. I'm sorry for all the wounds that you had to suffer for my sake."

"Aw, it's nothing." He responded, looking at his injured leg, it was wrapped slightly and stung a bit, but he could still feel it. "Silque said it'll heal in a few days, so no real harm done."

"I…think I should also apologize." Clair said, feeling her throat tighten, with each word. Why was it so hard to speak to him? Was it because of pride that she was holding back so much? "Back at the hideout, I said some…rather hurtful words. Words that I've soon regret saying to you."

Gray felt his flush getting more intense. Now he could finally look away in embarrassment and a bit in shame. "N-no, you were right. I was rather blatant trying to impress you, and I didn't take your feelings into concern when I did. Saving you changed none of that."

The tension between them grew exponentially. _"Why is a simple apology such a difficult task?_ "Clair thought. _"Come now, Clair. You're a noble, you've should be the height of grace and elegance."_ "I was…angry at the time, for things that weren't your fault, so I took out my frustrations out on you. I didn't fully mean what I said, at least not in the manner that I said it. I cannot offer you my heart, Gray, but I can at least offer you my friendship and respect. I-is that acceptable to you?"

Gray nodded. He was still in love with her, but her friendship was enough. "Yeah, thanks…Clair."

The two smiled at each other, perhaps for the first time that wasn't pretend or under the guise of professionalism. "Well, I'm glad that matter is settled." Clair said, standing. "Now, I have my own duties to attend to. I hope you recovered well, and please…a little less of your empty praise when we speak again."

Gray just grinned bashfully. "Heh, you got it."

The two parted ways, happier than they entered. Gray simply lay back down on his bed and looked out towards the sky, an odd sense of contentment in his heart.

* * *

 _The next afternoon_

"Paparika, Saffron…" Faye muttered out as she looked at the rack of spices just above her. Most of them would be ludicrously expensive a few years ago, but being a member of the Deliverance had its benefits, and that comes with a special discount on purchases, courtesy of the grateful Zofian people.

Behind him, Tobin was simply waiting for her to make a choice. There was a basket in each of his hand filled to the brim with foodstuffs, and while his martial training has made this chore easy on a physical level, the tedium is still getting to him. "How much longer till you're done?"

"Well, if you want to have a great meal, you'll have to be patient a little while longer." Faye remarked cheerfully, ignoring her companion's whine. "Besides, I didn't ask you to help me with this, so you can't complain."

Tobin stayed silent at that one. It's true that he volunteered to help her buy some foodstuffs, so he supposed any complaints he had was self-inflicted. "A-anyways, listen, Faye. I need to tell you something. It's about Alm…"

Faye immediately turned her head around at the mention of his name. Her cheeks were flushed. "W-what about him?"

Tobin sighed. He didn't know if this would make her feel better or worse, but he couldn't keep it a secret from her any longer. He told Gray and Kliff last night, but he figured that she deserves to know more than anyone. "The day we took Zofia Castle, Alm…met Celica that day."

"W-whaa?" Faye said, nearly dropping her basket. "How do you know?"

"I saw her leave Zofia Castle. Thing is, she didn't look happy. At all." Tobin remarked. "In fact, Alm didn't look happy either. I think they had some sort of fight or something."

"Huh…" Faye said, and frowned a little. "I guess it must have been about something big, they never fought when we were kids."

"Then again, it's been a long time since they met." Tobin said, recalling all those years ago. Some of those memories were lost to him, but he did always remember how much happy he was playing and training with everyone. "Maybe they just aren't the people they thought they are. The Alm back then and the Alm now is still the same guy in a lot of ways, but there's a lot different about him too."

"I guess…" Faye said as she picked out the spice she wanted and paid for it, with the shopkeeper thanking her on liberating Zofia Castle, much like almost every other shopkeeper. The pair headed back out into the crowded marketplace.

"Anyways, I just thought I should let you know, seeing as how you are with Alm." Tobin said rather forcefully, trying to cut through the silence.

"Thanks." Faye said, smiling at him to cheer him up. "You've always looked out for me, Tobin. Remember when we were little and I climbed up that tree?"

"How could I forget?" Tobin said aloud. "I climbed up there to try and rescue you, but in the end I got too scared to come back down. We were up there all day until Mycen helped dragged us down. Ma was furious that night."

"Still, you didn't even hesitate to try and save me. I appreciate that." Faye said, her smile widening. "And that wasn't the only time either. I guess what I'm trying to say is…thanks, Tobin, for everything."

Tobin's response was a simple nod, a smile forming on his face as they both headed back to the castle.

* * *

Alm was glancing at the map laid out across the room's table, his eyelids heavy. He hadn't much sleep lately, but such was the burden of a leader. Still, the few times he allowed his mind to rest, it replayed that moment in time. The cheering Zofians, him standing tall…and his dearest friend walking out on him, turning bitter what was once a sweet moment.

Still, he didn't regret what he said. War was the only path that can secure peace. With the Rigellians still holding Northern Zofia, he couldn't simply broker peace or rely on diplomacy. The only rule Rigellians know is strength, and he was intent to show them that Zofia was no timid cub.

Focusing on the map, he could see so many things that he couldn't before. Supply lines, jumping off points, favorable terrain, and potential ambush positions, those roared into his head like a lingering voice that he couldn't shut out. Still, he wasn't going to stop until his kingdom was free at last.

"Alm?" A voice crept out. Alm turned his gaze to Clair, who greeted him with a smile and a bowl of food. "The boy was missing at lunch, so I figured he'd be here. Be grateful that a lady like me has brought you food."

Smiling, Alm accepted the bowl gratefully. He was admittedly hungry, and needed to rest. "Sorry about the trouble, Clair." Taking a bite, he finally felt how truly famished he was, and took another, restraining himself from eating faster due to the company in his presence.

"So, tell me Alm, why do you look so sad recently? I miss seeing you smile." Clair said, worried. "And you shouldn't push yourself so hard; the Deliverance needs its leader strong and healthy."

"Thanks for the advice. I guess I have been working a little too hard." Alm said, letting out a light yawn. "I guess I've just haven't been in the best of moods recently, especially since…"

"Since what?" Clair asked when he stayed silent, not finishing his sentence.

"Since I had a fight with someone, someone close to me." Alm finished, not really sure how to convey his feelings to her, as he'd barely understand how he felt.

"Oh, dear, it's odd that you of all people would have a fight with someone, especially with a fellow member of your own village."

"What?" Alm asked before realizing what she meant. "Oh, no, it wasn't with someone from Ram, though I did meet her there. Her name is Celica, we met when we were little."

"Ah, I've heard the name." Clair admitted, having heard the other villagers mention it a few times in their many nightly conversations. "Were you two particularly close?"

"Yeah…" Alm said. "When she was forced to move away, I was pretty shaken by that. And when I saw her again, it was as if all my troubles were away somehow. I missed her, and I guess I still do. But..."

Clair looked at him, at his face that held both longing and a bit of regret. "You…care for her, don't you?" It wasn't quite what she meant when she asked that question, but she didn't quite dare to be more specific with her wording.

"Yeah, I do." Alm said, confirming her suspicions. "Anyways, you're right. I think I should get some rest. Thanks, Clair."

"Y-yes, off to bed with you, our proud leader needs to be in fine shape." Clair said, slightly forced. Alm stood up and waved her goodbye. Leaving Clair alone in the room, disappointed that the boy he fancied has his sights on someone else, even after so much time separated. Perhaps the saying "absence makes the heart grow fonder" was more true than she thought.

Sighing, Clair left the room. There was time to deal with that later.

* * *

As the moonlit sky shone high on Castle Zofia, signaling midnight, Gray was bored in his quarters. Unable to sleep, he decided he should test out his leg. Holding the edge of his bed tightly he tried standing up on it, and found that it was easier than he thought.

Slowly letting go of the bed, he took one step with his leg, then another. The injured leg felt heavier, but he was walking, and that's all that mattered. Opening the door, he was surprised to find Tobin right behind it.

"What are you doing?" Gray whispered.

"I thought I'd check to see how you're doing, and well…" Tobin flashed him a smirk, handing him a training bow.

"Heh, you sly dog." Gray quipped, taking one and heading out. He noticed that Kliff was leaning against the hallway wall, giving him a nod.

"Glad to see you're walking again." Kliff said, rather awkwardly.

Catching up with one another, the trio went out into the night and into the garden of the castle, teeming with flowers and trees. Gray smiled. "No one's going to interrupt us, right?"

"The patrols usually skip here." Tobin said. "Who'd want to check up on a garden anyways? Now, are we going to do this or what?"

Accepting a bunch of arrows from him, Gray pointed to the branches far away tree, around 30 meters. "First person to miss a branch loses."He said, notching his arrow.

"Fine by me." Tobin said, watching his friend take aim. Breathing calmly, he closes his eyes and focused, before opening them and loosing the arrow. The arrow flew across the sky and struck a part of a branch barely bigger than it.

"Not bad, not bad." The archer remarked. He wasn't about to be beaten at his own game. Readying himself, he loosed an arrow in an instant, and it struck the bare edge of a branch, cutting it off before hitting a wall. As it fell to the ground, Gray whistled in admiration.

"Hmph." Kliff said, his face buried in his tome. "Try not to kill anyone on accident."

"Want to try, Kliff?" Tobin said, handing him his bow. "Ever since you've gotten into magic I've never even seen you touch a bow."

"That's because." Kliff said, placing the tome down on the grass and swiping the bow. "It is too much of a hassle. Why go through all the trouble of shooting an arrow when you can just cast a spell."

Notching an arrow, Kliff impatiently loosened an arrow…which missed the branches and struck the wall. His two companions tried to stifle their laughter, only to be met with Kliff's scowl.

"This only proves my point. Spells are way more efficient." Kliff said, with not a bit of defensiveness in his tone.

Throughout the night the three loosened arrow upon arrow, not caring if they could get caught. Tobin, being the most experienced, won more often than the others, though the other two had provided more than their fair share of competition. At the end though, their quiver emptied out and several dozen arrows lodged in either the tree or the wall, the three sat down and looked at their work with satisfaction.

"Heh, guess you won, Tobes." Gray remarked.

"He should. He's the archer after all." Kliff said. "Can you imagine how embarrassing if he lost to people who don't shoot arrows for a living?"

The three shared a laugh, and simply sat there, as the friends they are. They fought, they argued, but they always count on each other when their lives are on the line.

"So, how are things with you and Clair?" Tobin said. "I noticed that she stayed with you when we all left."

"Well, I guess we're friends again…" Gray said, hiding a blush. "We apologized, and I think I'm free to talk to her as long as I don't try to…"

"Blatantly try to carouse her?" Kliff said. The three boys laughed madly; perhaps the fatigue from the training was getting to them.

"Alright, I think it's time we headed for bed." Gray said, actively willing his body to stand up. He'd be sure he'll regret his actions in the morning, but for now he wanted to bask in the glorious present.

The other two rose up and started taking out the arrows. Hopefully nobody would notice a few small holes in the wall. Waving goodbye, the three went their separate ways to get some sleep. Tobin found his quarters and lazily threw away his equipment, laying on the bed and instantly drifting off to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, with the entire city cheering at their departure, the Deliverance marched off to retake the northern half of Zofia. As their new leader waved at the masses who cheered for him, with Clive nearby doing the same, the Ram Villagers were just behind them.

"Seems like our Alm's is quickly getting used to this leader thing, huh?" Gray said.

"Of course, he's Alm." Faye said as she stared at him longingly.

"Well, let's make sure he stays alive." Tobin said. "That's our job, after all."

The villagers nodded together as they left Zofia Gate, to another battle looming on the horizon.

 **This is more of a transition chapter than anything else. Anyways, I'll be taking a short break before returning to writing this, till then -ArcanaHermit**


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Six_

 _Doubt on both sides_

"The enemy is camped out beyond the northern river." Clive said as the war council started convening. A few days march from the north of Castle Zofia, and the shocked Rigellians and rebel Zofians finally stood their ground near the northern part of that region. "A focused armored core and a cavalry battalion, but my concern is their witches."

"Witches, huh?" Alm said, slightly nervous. Having desired to learn more of their enemy, he dived deep into what they knew of them, and of all their might, the one that worried him the most were the enigmatic witches. Powerful magi that sacrificed lives to Duma, they were both effective combatants and can teleport to any location, making them a troubling thing to account for.

Still, he was a leader, and he has to show no fear. "Tell the men to be wary, they can pop up at any moment to ambush us, so we simply have to prepare for that inevitability. Tell me the terrain, Clive."

"Clear open plains, with a river wide river parting our forces." Clive elaborated. "The bridge is being held by their armors, too entrenched to be removed by our fliers. If we decide to ford, more than likely their witches would pick us off from afar."

"What if we try to go around it?" Tobin suggested. "No need to fight when we can simply move around them."

"Except for the fact that their cavalry will most likely get there first, kiddo." Python said wryly, leaving Tobin dejected. "Like it or not, we'll have to fight on their terms. Doesn't mean we can't win though, even witches fall to a good shot between the eyes."

"Indeed." Alm concurred. "We may be playing into their hands, but we will show them that we're not to be underestimated. Zofia will take back her kingdom with our own two hands."

This rallied the council, who nodded in agreement. Alm was getting used to raising the morale of his fellow soldiers, perhaps he was finally getting used to leadership. "Now then, let us discuss our plans further; I'm sure we can reach an agreeable solution."

* * *

"Are you daft? The enemy is right beyond us. Let us go and crush them." Fernand fumed, raising his fist.

The man beyond him, dressed in full silver armor, was not amused. Zackson tucked a lock of black hair behind him and looked him in the eye, disdain hidden in his expression. "Orders are orders, we were asked to hold this point, and we will. No one's going anywhere."

"Grrr…" Fernand gritted his teeth at the man who defied him. "True knights do not hide like cowards, we fight, knave!"

"Listen, Zofian, the only reason you're hear is because Lord Berkut wants you here." Zackson said, finally tired of his accusations. "If he wanted you beaten and broken, I wouldn't mind using my spear to teach you a lesson in humility." The threat made the former Deliverance member flinch internally. "So shut your mouth and follow my orders, or you'll wish you had."

Fernand said nothing, gritting his teeth at frustration. This was the first time he was going to fight for Rigel, and he was more than eager to prove himself. And now this man Zackson was commanding him, telling him not to engage the enemy. The powerlessness he felt made him feel uneasy, and more importantly, unimportant.

"Now if there's nothing else, go back to your post." Zackson said with a slight sneer towards this new upstart defector.

Storming out of the main tent, Fernand was seething with rage. He wanted to shout and vent his frustrations to the sky, but his image as a noble prevented him from doing so in front of so many soldiers. So he simply paced back and forth from camp, wondering what to do.

" _That damnable Zackson"_ He thought. _"He hides like a coward while our enemies continue to build up their forces. If I were in charge I would crush them like ants!"_

Then an idea hit him, it was a very dangerous idea, one that could very well end him but nevertheless still tempted the edges of his mind. He wanted to show Rigel that he was on their side, and that he would, without a doubt, fight with them to take Zofia was their right by strength.

Smirking, he walked towards the cavalry quarters, and barged in the tent of the captain of the cavalry brigade, whose name he knew but forgot. When he was a knight in Zofia, he would remember the names of his subordinates and those under his command, no matter who they were.

Pushing that time out of his mind, he addressed the captain. "You lot are coming with me, we're heading out to engage the enemy."

The captain, an unassuming man dressed in dark armor, stood immediately straight at the sight of him. Hearing his command, he immediately interjected. "B-but Commander Zackson said-"

"I know what he said, you fool." Fernand barked out, intimidating the captain. "I was sent here personally by Lord Berkut, and you WILL follow my orders."

Properly cowed, the captain bowed down. "Y-yes sir, should I…inform Commander Zackson?"

Fernand glared at the mention of that name again, and the already frightened captain immediately ran out, presumably to assemble the rest of the cavalry troops.

Sighing once again, Fernand found himself overall disappointed at what he saw. The Rigellians here comprised of nobles and commons, but it was the nobility that had full command as it should. But the nobility he saw so far, excluding Lord Berkut himself, were either cowards or schemers, possessing none of the traits of honor that he expected.

Leaving the tent, he simply waited until the mewling captain rounded up the soldiers. Once he did he rode on his own beautiful white stallion, with a shining mane and a graceful, almost angelic demeanor, one of the few things he kept from his Deliverance days.

Looking back and assessing his, no…the men, he saw that some of them were confused, some of them were ambivalent, and some were even resentful that they were being led by a former Zofian, nothing like the warm looks of the Zofian knights. It didn't matter. Victory was the only true judge of war.

"Hear me well, men of Rigel." He began speaking. "We are here to claim Zofia under the rightful rule of Rigel. The Zofians have sullied their own name for too long, and now it's our time to show them the right way to lead."

As he spoke, memories flashed in his mind. It was a similar sight to the one he's seeing now, except he wasn't the one speaking. It was Clive, with Mathilda by his side. He spoke with such fervor and passion that the men cheered on for him, not a one withholding their praise. And then, as though those memories were what he saw instead of the reality around him, Clive looked at him and smiled, and the men cheered for him as well.

Pushing those thoughts out of his mind, he realized that he finished his speech without thinking. He had forgotten what he had said, but he found that the men before him did not cheer for him as in his memory. And that only increased the feeling in his chest that made him so angry.

Pushing those thoughts of what once was aside; he turned around and charged, hoping that the men behind him followed.

* * *

"Sir!" A tired scout charged in the war room, surprising everyone present. "The Rigellians are charging towards are position."

"What?" Clive said immediately, gripping the table. "But why would the Rigellians give up such an important defensive advantage. It makes no sense."

"Perhaps they got sick of biding their time." Alm suggested. "Or maybe they mean to catch us unawares."

"No, they aren't usually this reckless…" The season general thought, wondering why they were attacking when as they are. Alas, an answer didn't come to him, save that he felt that he wasn't going to enjoy this battle in particular. "I think it's best if we send a splinter force to engage them, while the rest of the army holds back and await any further surprises from them."

"I agree." Alm said, and the rest of the war council nodded. "Clive, take Tobin and the rest of our cavaliers. We'll be right behind you in case anything else happens. Faye and Clair, cover them in case they need to retreat."

The general simply nodded and headed out, Tobin accompanying him. The rest of the meeting was simple contingency plans should anything unexpected happen, and then a quick and rushed exit to prepare for the looming enemy.

Clive was not a little bit anxious when he finally rode upon his horse, prepared to leave camp. His gripped his spear tightly, and wonder why he felt this unease. Was he scared that they finally decided to kill Mathilda, his one and only love? Or something else…

"Make sure you stay safe, alright?"

Turning around, Clive saw that Faye was seeing Tobin off. The two nodded at each other before Tobin readying his new mount, a normal brown buck. After making final preparations, the group of cavaliers marched forward, ready to face the enemy.

* * *

"WHAT?!" Shouted Zackson, who slammed his metallic fist onto the table, a visible hole forming on its wooden surface. The soldier who reported was unused to his commander's sudden outrage, but he nevertheless stood firm.

"Lord Fernand has taken the cavalry to charge at the enemy." Said the soldier, who showed neither admiration nor disdain. "They haven't gotten far, but they're most likely approaching the banks of the river."

"DAMN HIM." Zackson said, slamming his fist down again. He questioned bringing that arrogant traitor here from the beginning, only silencing due to lord Berkut's glimmering recommendation of him. But now he's charging headfirst to the enemy, compromising their defensive advantage in the process.

Reeling in his anger, he sat back down on his seat and pondered his decisions. He could, of course, let him charge into the enemy and die. That would remove him and make him all the happier for it, but he'd lose a significant part of his men while doing so. On the other hand, supporting him would mean defense would be unsustainable if he lost.

Muttering over this decision for what seemed like a long time for him, he gritted his teeth. On his honor as a Rigellian, he's going to fight to protect his men. They may have disobeyed his command, but he put that blame solely on the Zofian that led them to such foolishness.

"Ready the men." He said, solemnly. If this was his last battle, so be it. "We're going to help that damn fool."

His soldiers saluted before leaving. Sighing, Zackson sat back down and took out a parchment. He wasn't arrogant enough to think that victory was guaranteed. His numbers were few, and more would be thinned by Frenand's reckless assault. But at the very least, if he died, he would die with honor.

With not much time left to spare, he began writing his possible final letters, to send to his family and spouse back in Rigel.

* * *

Clive's forces arrived at the riverbank first, their horses trotting about. Clive eyed the other side of the river's edge. He could see them in the distance, charging towards him. The images were getting clearer with each passing second.

Rigellians, with mounts of brown and black, their armor as dark as their expressions. Except one was suspiciously out of place among them. It looked like…

His heart sank immediately as he saw who it was. The silver haired knight seemed to notice him too, and only offered a glare of contempt in response. The forces were ever closer to clashing, yet Clive felt sick, as though he could throw his spear at any moment.

"Sir, what do we do?" A fellow soldier asked, apparently he wasn't the only one shocked at the betrayal. The men behind him were gasping and muttering as well.

"Hold formation." Clive motioned, hoping there wasn't any cracks in his voice. He can't be wavering, not now. "We'll repel them here."

Despite the confusion, the knights did as they were told, maintaining a defensive position. The enemy was almost upon them, their gallops thundering. One of them began to shout, then the other, and now all of them of shouting out, trying to intimidate their foe.

All hell broke loose as the two groups finally clashed, horses crashing against one another in a tide of steel and flesh. The Zofian cavalry held strong, but the Rigellians simply intensified their charged, shouting and screaming as steel clashed on steel.

Clive speared a foe off his horse, as he and all the other bodies began to be trampled by hooves, crushed into a bloody pulp. Another foe tried to unhorse him, but he simply ordered his horse to sidestep the blow, and retaliated even faster, downing him.

 _CLANG!_

He barely raised his spear in time to block that fast blow, before swatting it away from him. He eyed his new foe…and his old friend, Fernand.

No words were exchanged as chaos and death was around them, there was just an empty silence. Fernand didn't look remorseful; he merely raised his spear and went for another thrust. It was met with a skillful parry, as the two met in a stalemate once more.

"Why?" Clive asked, not wanting to say anything more, for he'd be threatened to break if he did.

Fernand simply scoffed as he landed another blow, which was met with a block. Both knew the moves of the other, their offense, defenses, and skills. It was truly a battle of people who once knew each other fully.

"You very well know why." Fernand said at last, his voice laced with hatred. "You took the country I once held dear and brought it low, old friend. You allowed commoners and upstart serfs stand on equal ground with their betters."

"I did what I had to free Zofia." Clive said, his voice getting louder. Suddenly the battle became lost to him. There was only him and the man in front of him, the man he trusted so much, the man who once meant as much to him as his sister. "And for that you willingly turn to the one who started this conflict in the first place?"

"Rigel still has ideals worth holding on to." Another clash, another stalemate. Fernand's mouth suddenly grew into a knowing smile. "Shall I entertain you with a secret? The boy you claim as leader was never Mycen's grandson."

"What?" Clive said, aghast. "Lies, Fernand! That's untrue."

His answer was merely a chuckle from Fernand. "Ah, but the doubt in your voice gave you away. You always were too earnest for your own good. But ask yourself truly, why you haven't heard of this supposed grandson until now."

Clive beat back another vicious assault, but his mind still reeled from the sudden realization. Recalling the old man back in Castle Zofia, who claimed Mycen never had a family of his own. Was he wrong in entrusting Alm with command of the Deliverance? Was Fernand…right?

* * *

Farther away, Tobin loosed another arrow into the fray, landing square into a Rigellian's chest. Smirking, he quickly loosened another one and another one. The line was holding firm against the brutal onslaught, two Rigellians lost for every Zofian. He was having a good feeling about this…

…which was quickly ended as a blast of fire was launched right into the allied cavalry, utterly blasting several units at once. The blast came from behind, and turning around revealed the elusive and dangerous culprit.

They were wearing an elegant robe of dark red and black, with purple skin. Beautiful yet revolting, their purple skin and glowing eyes gave it all away. Witches…

Turning his attention to the now assault flank of the cavaliers, Tobin quickly loosened an arrow at the witch. However the arrow did not land, instead hitting purple mist as they disappeared, presumably to cause havoc from another direction.

"Damn it." Tobin grunted, already seeing the effects of those damned souls first hand. The Rigellians gained more of a foothold thanks to that attack, pushing the Zofians ever so slightly back. If any more of those attacks happened, it won't be long until they'll be forced to retreat altogether.

"Tobin!" A voiced called out as Faye swooped down in a flash and slashed her spear at a witch, leaving a deep cut into her side. Afterwards flying near where Tobin was. "The rest of the army is marching down the centre bridge!"

" _Just what we need, more bad news_ " Tobin thought. "Does Alm know?"

"Yeah…he's marching the rest of the army down to meet them." Faye said, with a hint of worry in her voice. "We're ordered to go there, so you guys need to hold them off here."

At first he thought about complaining, or even asking if they could help, but then he saw the worry in her face. She wasn't worried about Alm, she was worried about him. Sighing, he simply said. "Got it, we'll manage."

"Tobin…"

"Go." The archer said, cracking a dour smile. "I'll be fine. He needs you."

Returning the smile with one of her own, Faye flew far away, leaving Tobin and Clive's men alone to fend for themselves. Another blast of fire struck. Not even bothering to look at the damage, Tobin immediately loosed an arrow at the witch, landing square in the chest and killing her.

" _Good, that's one more down."_ He thought grimly.

Now the simple battle that once raged throughout the eastern bank has become more complicated. It all depends on whether the witches can be killed before they do too much damage. Succeed, and the changes of holding them off here would be more than enough.

Fail in the attempt and the cavalry will push through, giving them another flank to attack the main force with, and potentially cost them everything.

Tobin notched another arrow, the consequences firm in his mind.

" _We can't lose. WE CAN'T"_

* * *

Gray was anxious to see battle after the brief respite, and once the enemy was upon them he wasted no time letting loose. Wielding a simple steel sword, his previous blade lost or shattered, he danced around the armored knight's thrust and landed a clean slice into the slit of the steel pauldron. The foe hissed in pain and it lashed out with a swing of his lance, but he simply dodged out of the way, looking for another opportunity to strike.

Being comprised of mostly armored knights locking each other's sides, the enemy was proving more than tough to take down, in no small part due to their tough exterior shells. The enemy wasn't fools either, as their archers kept harassing down Kliff and Silque, ensuring no magic would come to turn the fight in the Zofian's favor, while a select few patrolled the skies in case any fliers decided to interfere, ready to shoot them down should they even attempt to descend.

Still, what they have in strength and skill they lacked in speed, and their archers too busy harrying the mages to pay the agile sword wielders any heed. Gray leapt in the air to make a downward strike towards the helmet of his foe, slitting his eyes through his visor and sending him to the ground, followed by an easy stab to the slit on the neck.

Alm, as ever, was less subtle but far more brutal, simply letting his broadsword crash down on the enemy helm, ripping into metal and flesh. As he yanked it out of his dead foe, ready for the next line of armored that inevitable stepped forward, the enemy formation instead locked shields in a phalanx and pushed, finally adapting to the Zofian's stratagems.

"Uh oh, looks like they've wisened up, Alm." Gray remarked with a spat. "What should we do?"

"Damn, we can't get to their archers unless we try to ford the river." The leader responded as the Zofians were pushed back by the phalanx, losing their side of the bridge ever so slightly. If the battle took to open land, the casualties would be even more severe.

Another step forward, another step back for the Zofians, another step towards disaster. The pegasi riders were above wondering what to do, as crashing into such a tight formation would mean fear of getting shot by the archers.

Another step forward from the phalanx, and Alm felt his confidence cracking. His mind is reeling on what to do. And then it hit him.

"Faye, Clair, go to the riverbank." He shouted out to the skies. The two heard him and immediately flew towards the skies, trusting in his decision. He then turned to his trusted friend. "Alright, we need to slow down their push. You ready, Gray?"

Gray's response was a simple smirk and a flourish of his blade. The plan was set in motion, the goals simple, now all that's left was the execution.

It was a game of cat and mouse, but who was the cat, and who was the mouse?

Alm and Gray charged towards the wall of shields.

* * *

Clive wasn't faring much better, as he was still being ruthlessly assaulted by his former friend, barely able to defend himself against the tide of swings and thrusts. His defensive lines were slowly thinning due to the constant witch attacks, which despite sustaining some losses still disable a large portion of their army.

More than that, doubt still plagued his mind about his leader's lineage. If he truly was not the grandson of Mycen, that would make him a common-born boy without a trace of doubt. Despite not being as fervent about it as Fernand, he still advocated the nobility ruling over the commons, simply on the principle of needing to be a centralized order lest chaos and inefficiency take a hold on the kingdom.

If what Fernand accused him of was true, that would be a betrayal of the very principles he stood for, and that fact was like a knife through his heart, even as he was being pushed to the brink of defeat.

Losing focus, his lance was swatted aside by Fernand, who intended to land the killing blow, with his opponent barely raising any resistance…

However, something swooped in between the cavaliers as he swung down. Steel clashed against steel as Fernand found himself staring down another familiar face.

"Clair…" He said rather grimly.

The pegasus rider spared no words, instead flying above him and landed a downwards jab. Fernand barely dodged the quickly executed blow, leaving a slight cut on his cheek. Irritated, Fernand swung his spear upwards, intending to kill his other former friend…

And then a sudden force blasted him backwards, almost off his horse. Clive found his nerve again and struck him with the shaft of his spear. The blow landed and hit him in the chest. Growling, he readied his lance again, and saw…

And saw Clive and Clair, fighting side by side. Suddenly, a tide of emotions flooded him at once, memories of days gone by. He could almost see two others with him, Mathilda and…himself, fighting proudly together. And for once, he hesitated...

Gripping his spear tightly, he wheeled his horse away. His interest in this battle was waning, and despite inflicting losses on the enemy, his own smaller force was vastly depleting as well. He did not come all this way to die.

"Next time we meet, I'll hold nothing back." He vowed, though he couldn't say to whom. With those parting, bitter words, he charged his horse, leaving the men under his care behind.

"You have my thanks, Clair." Clive said, though his formal tone was laced with doubt. "Come, let us finish off the rest of the enemy."

"Indeed, my dear brother." Clair replied, clearly just as troubled as him over the sudden realization about Fernand, although Clive kept quiet that that wasn't the only thing. "I'll deal with the witches; you coordinate with the men and then march and flank the enemies at the bridge."

"Right…" Clive said, marching back to organize his cavaliers while Clair flew above, presumably to surprise the witches with an aerial assault.

Taking a deep breath, he cleared his mind. There will be time to answer those questions later, right now all that matters is winning this battle.

* * *

"Come on, you Zofian dogs." Zackson barked aloud, skewering a fallen Zofian, more out of mercy for his suffering foe than anything else. "I'll put the fear into you right before you died."

His men shouted similar chants alongside him, even as they held their wall and pushed back the Zofians even further. They were almost on open ground now. Despite the efforts of two of their best warriors trying to break the line, Rigellian discipline made them hold and push, and soon the enemy will break.

Perhaps Fernand was right in attacking after, perhaps he would live to see his family again, his beloved wife.

Suddenly a cry rang out behind them, and for a seasoned commander like Zackson, there was no mistake what they cry was. Soon, white and brown horses were soon sighted, their blood-soaked riders charging forward and taking the archer lines by surprise.

All hell broke loose, with the archers gone, the mages finally came out and blasted fire upon their front line, killing several and tearing a hole in their defenses. The Zofians took the opportunity and charged straight into the front line, taking advantage of the confusion.

" _Surrounded with no way out and no way to win…Damn you, traitor."_ Zackson mused bitterly. If he somehow appeared before him he would have split him in half.

"S-sir, what do we do?" A fellow knight asked him. Their numbers were thinning, and men were surrendering outright. "W-we can't win this."

Taking a deep breath, Zackson calmed himself, and felt some semblance of peace. A warrior always prepares for death, he was taught, but it was only now where he truly understood the value of that teaching.

"We fight." He said at last, thrusting up his spear so that everyone, friend or foe can hear him. "LISTEN TO ME, MEN OF RIGEL! We have no hope of victory, but we carry the hope of Rigel's victory within us. Fight on for you brothers, your sisters, and fight on in the name of honor."

The speech spurred the men into action, who began retaliating in frenzy, fully embracing their inevitable defeat yet trying to defy it all the same. Clasping a hand on the knight's shoulder, he smiled. "I'll hold our flank against the cavaliers, you instruct the knights to charge forward. No mercy, no quarter."

The knight, inspired, saluted him on his final orders. "Yes, sir." He said before heading off. The commander went his own way and charged the cavalry line head on.

Slamming into a horse full force, he knocked off the rider above before quickly landing a spear to his throat, silencing his screams. Swinging around, he swung his lance against another foe, but he dodged in time and landed a strike onto his armor. It did little as Zackson landed another strike, landing this time on his chest.

His leg suddenly felt a surge of pain as he saw an arrow had pierced through it, looking up at the one who shot it, a brown haired boy, youth still fresh in his eyes; he glared at him before trying to charge him.

It was ineffective as another arrow landed into his arm, pushing him back. Around him his men were being slaughtered, and he was getting surrounded. And yet he did not yield, his pride pushing him to fight, to kill, in the name of a cause he would not live to see fulfilled.

Another strike as his chest armored was battered, this time an axe managed to cleave through and pierce the flesh beneath, but he simply gritted his teeth at the pain as he swung his lance at the foe, felling him. His vision was getting clouded, as was his head. He took another step…

…Only to find himself kneeling, his body finally giving in. He could see the ground was soaked with blood. Was it only his, or was it filled with his men as well?

His body finally dropped to the floor with a thud, the sounds of battle dying down, or perhaps his ability to hear was fading as well. He tried to groan, to shout, to stand, but his body has stopped responding to his will.

As he laid there motionless, the life slowly slipping from him, his last thoughts were of the home he will never see, the meaningful life that he'll never come back to.

 _Mother, father, beloved, please forgive this fool, for I couldn't come home…_

* * *

"All in all, our casualties weren't too heavy." Clive said to Alm. "Our units are being reorganized to make up for the ones who fell, and the injured are going back to Zofia to recover. We should be able to push into Desaix's castle."

"Good, good." Alm said, sitting down on a nearby rock, overseeing his army. Bodies were being lifted and transported home, the Rigellians and the ones who were too mutilated to be identified simply buried out of common decency. Though it was a victory, it was neither decisive nor cathartic.

For the leader of the Deliverance, his blood coated armor and solemn face spoke more than words could say. Clive looked at him for a good long while. He looked and sounded every inch a noble, despite living in squalor, and yet he neither carried himself with the same aura of awe or arrogance as most of Clive's peers.

Yet if what Fernand and the old man said were true…

"I'll see how I can help. The leader shouldn't let his men do all the work." Alm said, standing up and looking at him. "Um, is something wrong, Clive?"

Clive wanted to scream his woes for all to hear, but necessity kept his mouth shut. If he exposed Alm now, or even question him, the blow to the army's morale would be more devastating than any blow the enemy could have made.

"It's…nothing." He said at last, standing up. He turned around so as to not show his face, for he knew it would have given his thoughts away. "I'll go take another look at our supplies. May Mila guide you, Alm."

"Listen, I'm…sorry about Fernand. I didn't know it would have come to this between you two." The young leader said nervously before heading off, leaving Clive to ruminate in peace.

"You don't have to." Clive said softly, though he wasn't sure if he heard it or not.

* * *

Gray was dragging another body, this time a Rigellian to a nearby hole. Despite being courteous enough to bury their enemies, they didn't have the time to make proper graves for them, so they simply dug a giant hole and neatly laid their bodies, or what's left of them.

"Man, you guys weigh a ton. Is everyone in Rigel like that?" Gray asked the corpse, not expecting an answer.

"Indeed, the lady was hoping their bodies would be lighter." groaned a voice behind him. Gray turned and saw that Clair was dragging a body as well, a witch.

"Heh, didn't expect you here." Gray said as he placed his body beside another. Did they fight together, or even know each other? Gray figured it didn't matter. "Isn't this an "improper job" for a lady?"

"Hmph, it is also unladylike to ignore a task because it isn't what is expected of me." Clair said with a reproachful tone, though all that did was make Gray smile wider. They had a few conversations here and there since their talk at Zofia Castle, most of them like this. But that was fine for the both of them, oddly enough.

"I see." Gray said as he started shoveling dirt on top of the body. "Anyways, I was thinking…"

"Oh, the boy is able to think? This is certainly a development." Clair said teasingly, unable to hide a playful smirk.

"Ha ha ha." Gray said, deadpan, though he wasn't entirely unamused either. "Anyways, I was always wondering, why do you never eat with anyone? I mean, when we're gathering you always eat with others, but most of the time you always eat alone."

"Oh…" Clair said. "Well, apart from Clive and lady Mathilda, most of my peers either never joined the military or have-"

"Or what?" Gray said as she stood silent.

"…or have defected." Clair said at last, obviously hurt.

"Oh, you mean…" Gray said in realization, not wanting to finish that sentence. While he wasn't part of the unit that engaged him, the news that Fernand has turned over to the Rigellians spread quickly among the army.

Clair looked away uncomfortably, her outgoing banter growing silent. Gray internally smacked himself by touching such a sensitive subject. "S-sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"It is alright. He may be my friend, but what he did was unforgivable." Clair said, not wanting to mention his name, lest the wound deepen. "Regardless, I hope that answer was satisfactory."

"Yeah, well…" Gray said, nervously questioning whether to follow through on this conversation. They were on much better terms than before, and to ruin that would have broken him. "I was wondering if…you'd like to eat with us."

"Us?" Clair said, slightly bewildered by the offer. "As in, you and your fellow villagers?"

"Yeah, we always eat together, though Alm doesn't always show up." He said the last part with a bit of a depressing tone. Despite understanding his new responsibilities, he still wishes his friend could spend more time with them. "We figured, since we'll be fighting together; why not eat together as well."

"Is this another one of your japes? How come you're the one informing me of this." She said with a suspicious glint.

"Hey, hey I swear this isn't my idea." Gray lifted his hands in defense.

"Hmmm…" Clair pondered, his suspicion lowering only slightly, before finally giving an answer. "Well, I suppose I can grace your presence for some time. Besides, I've always been curious about how peasants live, so this will be a learning opportunity."

The villager raised his eyebrow at that last remark, but kept it to himself. Instead, he smiled and said. "It'll be nice to have you."

The two continued to talk even as they continued to bury the dead, lightening the mood despite the morbidity of their job, and for Clair, the tragedy of the battle. Clair silently thanked him for the levity.

 **I know, I know, anticlimactic way to end it, but this was getting long enough, and I didn't want my followers, few they may be, to wait for another week. Next chapter, we'll (maybe) deal with Desaix. Until then… -ArcanaHermit**


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7_

 _A Leader's Burdens_

As the moon and the star lit up the night sky, illuminating the camp below, Gray picked up some food, mainly meat on the edge of being spoilt and walked over to that ever familiar campfire, where his friends seated beside them, their talks livelier than ever.

Of course, that's because someone else has joined in. Sitting beside Tobin as usual and handing him his portion, he leaned back and listened as Clair recounted an event from her childhood that drew laughter from his friends. Ever since his invitation to join the other Ram Villagers on their usual nightly gatherings, the noblewoman partook with them on many occasions.

"So…" Tobin whispered as the others were busy with their conversation. "…how long till you confess to Clair again?"

"What? Stop teasing." His friend chided back, his face obviously red. Getting the reaction he was hoping for, Tobin simply laughed. "Urgh, you jerk."

"Wow, Clair, I didn't know the nobility did so many things in their childhood." Faye exclaimed. "It must be tough."

"Perhaps for some people, but not for one as intelligent and as graceful as I." She turned to Gray and Tobin, still caught in their little conversation. "Wouldn't you say?"

"Oh…uh, yeah, you're amazing." Gray said, looking away and silently cursing Tobin for making him blush even more. Clair either didn't see it or she simply didn't care as she stood up and began stretching herself.

"Well then, I shall be heading off. It's getting rather late. See you all at first dawn."

And with that, the one person left the fire. The rest of the Ram Villagers all looked at their black-haired compatriots, wide grins on their faces.

"W-what are you all smiling about? It's creepy." Gray said, unnerved.

"Just admiring how red your face is right now." Kliff said with a smirk. "Man, have you ever tried being subtle in your life before?"

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean."

"You were blushing the entire time Clair spoke, Gray." Faye said, giggling a bit. "It was kind of hard not to notice."

"Oh, man. I must look so dumb right now." Gray groaned out, receiving a pat on the back by a sympathetic Tobin.

"Anyways, it's getting late. I'll be heading off to my quarters." Faye said, leaving only the three boys left. Kliff started to stand up as well.

"Not joining us for training?" Tobin asked.

"I got better things to do." Kliff remarked before leaving to parts unknown, leaving Gray and Tobin behind. All around them the soldiers were extinguishing their fires and going back to their tents save for those who've been assigned on perimeter guard.

Nodding to each other, the two decided to put out their own fire and get to their usual nightly training. They've stopped these past couple of days due to necessity, but they decided that it was time to catch up on more bruises and sweat.

* * *

Alm was sitting on his bed, bitterly realizing that he couldn't sleep tonight. It was a more common occurrence now than ever before. He tried his best to hide it during the day, but in private he let the fatigue show full force.

He was looking around his tent. As befit his title of leader, it was a bigger tent, complete with makeshift fireplace, tables, pen and parchment, and even a wardrobe. And yet he didn't feel it was grand or as lavish as people claim, just…empty.

" _I'm letting the pressure get to my head."_ He thought bitterly. _"Is this what you've always warned me about, Grandpa?"_

Deciding that he shouldn't try to sleep, he stood up and walked out of his tent. As expected, the camp was empty; its souls getting what rest it could before the next march, the next battle. For some of them, it could be the last.

His mind was deeply troubled. He knew that a leader had to make sacrifices in order to achieve victory, but even still, he found it difficult to stomach the first few times: The mourning, the corpses, all of it. Over time he'd learn to swallow it better, but that did not make much easier for him to decide who lives and who dies, merely accept that what's done is done.

The clang of blades brought him out of his deep thought, as he wondered who'd be training in the dead of night. Approaching where he heard it, he saw Tobin and Gray furiously sparring with each other. Sparks flew as blunt steel clashed against blunt steel, the two facing each other with both camaraderie and intensity.

They both stopped the moment they spotted their friend and leader just staring at them, and just nervously waved at him. Alm waved back, feeling a bit awkward that he was interrupting their sessions.

"Hey…" Tobin said. "What are you doing up so late, Alm?"

"I could ask you two the same thing, but I've already guessed." He replied, exchanging a fond smile. "Mind if I join in?"

Tobin's response was to throw the sword for him to catch, which he did with eased. Gray, now facing a new opponent, readied himself, sarcastically remarking "Hey no fair, I just fought Tobin."

Despite that, the two decided to spar in that empty clearing. They were almost evenly matched, neither side gaining a clear advantage. Tobin, who had lazily observed them, wondered how far their skills who grow, and if either would outgrow the other.

His mind returned to the duel at hand. Gray landed a flurry of blows towards Alm, who deftly parried and retaliated with a quick swipe of his own. It caught his opponent off guard and disarmed him. Embarrassed and humbled, Gray raised his hand in surrender. "Guess you won again…"

Alm lowered his sword and respectfully bowed. "You were an excellent opponent."

"Whoa…" Gray exclaimed. "No need to be so formal, we aren't nobles, you know?"

"O-oh, alright." Alm said, as Gray lay down on the grass beside Tobin, yawning tiredly. Alm joined and sat down, the trio staring at the stars in silence for a while.

"I'll ask again, since you didn't give me a proper answer last time." Tobin began. "Why are you up so late?"

"I don't really know…" Alm admitted. "I guess I'm just tired, but I can't sleep."

"Being a leader is that tough, huh?" Gray said as his mind started to wander. The atmosphere was oddly soothing, a far cry from the desperation he felt scant minutes ago.

"You have no idea." Alm muttered, though even that was a fraction of the sheer frustration he felt.

"I guess…" Gray admitted. "Sometimes I wonder what it's like to be in your shoes, to have so many people look up to you and admire you. I don't think anyone looks at me the way they look at you."

"Trust me, sometimes I wish they didn't." Alm admitted, letting out a long sigh, as if the breath he let out were all of his problems. "It's so…hard, to have so many look up to you as if you're some kind of hero, some kind of god, even harder to choose who gets to live and die."

"Huh, when you put it like that, maybe I don't want to be in your shoes. But, then again…what do I fight for?" Gray said, catching a nearby fly that zipped across his face, a habit from his childhood.

"There you go again." Tobin said, laying to his side and closing his eyes. "You always go back to that question."

"Hmm, about what you're fighting for? This is the first time I've heard of it." Alm asked.

"That's because I'd never told anyone but Tobin and Kliff." Gray said. "A man's gotta keep his image, you know?"

The other two laughed, though Gray himself still pondered the question seriously. What did he have to fight for? The more he thought about it the more he was certain than an answer was beyond his grasp.

The three decided to stay for a little while, basking in the night's sky. It wasn't a particularly important moment, but they felt as if it was still irreplaceable.

* * *

The next day was signaled by shouts and the clopping of hooves.

Awakened by the sudden shouting, Alm and others prepared their armor and marched to its source. Outside, three mounted figures stood there, spears brandished. One of them was a familiar sight.

"Fernand." Clive said, already armed.

"Heh, so this is the Deliverance. You're lowlier than what I expected." The man in the center spoke. He was wearing jet-black armor that matched his hair. His face was an arrogant sneer, and already some of the troops whispered out his name, such was his renown.

"Prince Berkut, I assume." Clive said flatly. "Is this supposed to be an ambush?"

The Rigellian prince chuckled arrogantly. "Oh nothing so grand, Zofian. It's just been so long since I went out hunting, I figured I'd make sport out of you lot."

The army readied their weapons, nervous. Alm stepped forward, already brandishing his blade, pointing it at his opponent.

"So this is the peasant leader of this rabble." Berkut said, barely passing a glance at him. "Hmph, you certainly look the part of a peasant. Why don't you return to your farm instead of playing soldier?"

"Alm, don't fall for his taunts. It could be a trap." Clive warned, concerned. Alm stood forward anyways, resolute in his decision, the soldiers cheering him on.

"I know, I trust you to handle things if it is." Was all he said as he prepared his stance, feet apart and sword gripped tightly. Berkut smirked and charged at him, spear aimed for his head.

Alm barely dodged in time, the spear mere inches from his face. Another swing forced him to block, and already concerned rose within the Deliverance ranks.

"Shouldn't we help him?" came Clair's voice, slightly unsteady. Clive didn't answer.

Another hard swing landed on his armored gloves, breaking it and sending Alm back. Berkut laughed in satisfaction, whirling his lance around for show, a demeaning gesture as much as an arrogant one.

"What's wrong, farmboy? Can't handle a real fighter." Berkut taunted as Alm picked up his sword again, his arm now exposed.

Berkut froze on seeing his arm, a mark that resembled a scar, but wasn't a wound. He gritted his teeth at what he saw, on what that mark on his arm meant.

" _Could he be?"_ Berkut thought as he prepared for another charge, anger suddenly swelling up inside him. _"How could one as common as him be chosen? It must be a mistake."_

Berkut charged forward on his mount, whirling his spear. Alm held his ground and parried, throwing his mount backwards. The prince nearly fell before reining in his horse tightly, allowing him to turn and gain distance on Alm.

For a minute they stared at each other, the death of the other burned into their eyes. In the end, spoiled of his easy prey, Fernand lost his appetite for fighting.

"Fernand, we're leaving." Berkut said, gritting his teeth. He turned his back towards the Deliverance, who were shouting congratulations to Alm. "I'll let Desaix deal with this. Know that if we meet again, peasant, I shall show you why you lowborns should accept your place."

Berkut rode off, his Rigellian companion joining him. Fernand stared at Clive, who could only offer a flat look, before he rode off with his master.

* * *

"Why did you not attack further?" Fernand asked once they were out of earshot. He was disappointed that Alm wasn't beaten, and he made his displeasure known.

"Hmph, he can be beaten at any time. I simply wished to test the boy's mettle." Berkut said, though Fernand remained unconvinced. "Regardless, they'll get no further with Desaix's castle in the way, especially since you'll be there as well."

"What?" Fernand asked, shocked. "My place is by your side, my lord. I will not work under that greedy hound."

"Your place is where I tell you to." Berkut replied coldly. "I've heard reports from the survivors on that river battle, Fernand, and I am not pleased. You speak above your station. Know that you're only here by my goodwill."

Fernand wanted to object, but kept his tongue. The third rider simply looked at him with contempt before whipping his head back. In silence the three rode, and Fernand's doubts began to grow.

"That wasn't much of a victory at all." Alm admitted once he was in the privacy of Clive's tent. "Honestly, I'm not sure if I can count that as a battle."

"Indeed, he only wanted to test us." Clive responded. "Prince Berkut is as arrogant as the stories claim."

"Yeah, but he got anxious the moment he saw the mark on my arm. Why is that?" Alm said, looking at his exposed hand, mark present. "Why would he be scared of some birthmark?"

"I don't know, and I'm not sure we'll find an answer any time soon." Clive commented, sitting down nervously. "Regardless, I think we should march to Desaix's castle immediately. Every second we waste gives him more time to build his defenses and…" He trailed off.

"Oh, right, your lover…" Alm said. "He still has her prisoner, but we'll free her. I promise you, Clive."

" _Mila, those earnest eyes, the way he carries himself, how can he not be a noble?"_ Clive thought, as his fingers brushed over a map of Desaix's castle. The general slaved away all night studying every known entrance, defense mechanism and potential chokepoints.

This wasn't just another battle to him; this was where everything hangs in the balance, both strategically…and personally.

"I'll go organize the troops, I'm sure they'll want to congratulate me some more." Alm groaned slightly. It wasn't that he didn't like the praise, or even that he was embarrassed about it. It just felt…unwarranted, especially now. The only time when he'll fully accept it is when victory is finally achieve.

Leaving the tent, he passed by several soldiers, who saluted him dutifully. Commoners and nobles in grounds, but neither were intermingling. That was going to be an issue he intends to fix, to dissolve the distinction between the two, at least during wartime.

" _One thing at a time, first we need to secure Zofia."_

He told several messengers to relay his orders to march immediately, and couldn't help but suppress a yawn, regretting staying up so late last night. Regardless, he couldn't stop at all; he went to check on the armories, asking about the state of their weaponry. He went to their scouts to gather reports of their surroundings. He went to check on supplies, to comfort the wounded, to seek advice.

A thousand acts threatened to overwhelm him, yet the boy stood firm. This is what a leader should be, to bear the weight of the army without complaint. He marched throughout the camp with vigor in his step, heading to his final destination before the army began to march again.

 **Sorry for the delay, my college life has been a living hell of my own creation. Admittedly this is just a filler chapter, since I really didn't know what to do with the first Berkut encounter, but now we're truly heading to Desaix's castle, where the AU elements finally start to pop up. Till then -ArcanaHermit**


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8: Crossroads and Disgust_

 _Desaix's Fortress_

Desaix was enjoying a lavish meal of meats and wine when Fernand walked in on his feast, scowling as usual. The two traded looks of disdain and both relished the thought of killing the other, but ultimately held their intent. Time would come to settle scores, but for now they worked on repelling the oncoming army, who was fast approaching.

"I've organized the troops as you commanded." The younger knight said, though his voice edged at the word "commanded." "Our supplies are bountiful and our walls strong, they'll have no choice but to fight a long, protracted battle."

"Good, good…" Desaix said in between bites of pork, grease slicking down his beard. "And with Rigellian Cantors at our side, we'll have Terrors to replenish our numbers. They'll never get to me."

"Is that all, Desaix? I have things to attend to." Fernand asked.

"Ah, there is one matter, a test of your loyalty to Rigel." Desaix said smoothly, his eyes flushed with glee as he prepared to deliver his ultimatum. "The hostage we have, Mathilda, is no longer useful to us. I want you to execute her immediately."

Shock washed across Fernand's face as he heard the words. How could he forget that she was held captive here? "W-what? Why ask this of me?" he responded hastily. "I'm not some lowly executioner, Desaix. That is beneath me."

"The order comes from Lord Berkut himself. Failure to comply means I get to string you up as well, Fernand, and you know I would love to." The portly man said, taking great pleasure at his frustration and despair.

Gritting his teeth, Fernand exited the room without saying another word. He wanted to rush the table and strangle his neck until his head turned purple, and maybe not stop even then. But he held himself back.

And went to do what he needed to do.

* * *

"Sir, there's someone here for you."A soldier said, saluting crisply to Alm as he entered the briefing room. "A mage from the nearby border village, sir."

"Ah, that village is known to have a powerful magical family. I've visited their village a few times, and their people have nothing but praise to say about that family's magical potential." Clive commented as they said. "Perhaps we should hear him out."

Alm nodded and soon a man wearing robes stepped in, carry a green tome. He had dull red hair and had been cleanly kept, but carried an aura of solitude as he studied the figures before him. He turned towards Alm and made a curt bow.

"I was told this was the head Deliverance, correct? I am Luthier, fully-fledged mage." He said politely, though accentuating the part about his role. "I have come here with a request."

"A…request?" Alm asked.

"Our village has been ransacked by Desaix and Rigellians, though my family has done all it can to drive them off, however…" He said desperately. "My sister was kidnapped by Rigellians and was taken to the floodgates. I beg your aid in rescuing her."

"I…uh…" Alm said, hesitant.

Clive cut him off. "As terrible as your plight is, we are in the middle of a war. We can't simply put it on hold to save your sister."

"I understand completely sir, which is why I'll offer to join your services." Luthier replied calmly. "I understand that your army has is rather…understaffed when it comes to magical talent. All I ask is that when you go to the floodgates, you'll search for my sister."

"….Alright." Alm said, moving towards him and extending a hand. "We welcome you to the Deliverance, Luthier."

Luthier clasped his arm tightly, and after some minor introductions, he left the council to continue deliberating. Alm looked at Clive, catching his gaze of uncertainty. "You disapprove of that?"

"Alm, your kindness does you credit, but it can also blind you." Clive said bluntly. "We can't stop every time someone asks us for aid."

"But he's lost his sister." Tobin objected. "Aren't we doing the same thing here, rescuing your lover? Or is it because she's nobility?"

Clive glared at the villager, not of anger, but of frustration. He started to speak before Alm raised his hand, silencing the room.

"Nobility or not, we need to save her." Alm said, frankly. "The Deliverance is supposed to set an example to the rest, an example that proves that we help our fellow Zofians, regardless of station or birth. Isn't that right, Clive?"

"Yes, but…"

"Besides, driving the Rigellians out means heading to the floodgates." Gray pointed out, hit finger directly on top of the border between Zofia and Rigel. "We're heading there after beating Desaix, right? We can easily look for her once we reach there."

"We can discuss this some other time." Alm said, a sense of finality in his voice. "What matters right now is how we'll take Desaix's fortress, and make him pay for his crimes."

* * *

 _Dawn of the Next Day_

 _Desaix's Fortress, Dungeons._

Mathilda was in her lonely cell in the deepest pit of the dungeons. No sunlight peeked through here as she forced her tired body to push herself. Up and down, up and down, an exercise to keep her body sharp. She may never live to benefit from it, but it wasn't in her nature to give in to despair simply because she was a captive.

Even without access to the outside, she could tell that it was dawn by the smell of gruel being callously passed to her cellmates. Slop with only a hint of spice. She stopped her training to accept the bowl from her jailor, who simply looked at her with angry and lustful eyes. That she hadn't been attacked from any of her captors yet was a blessing she intended to thank Mila for if she got out.

"If" had been "when" a week ago. Or at least what she perceived to be a week. Was her faith really evaporating so quickly?

She looked around at her cellmates, and none were men she recognized. She knew what a few of them did to deserve this place, from thievery to simply saying no to Desaix's orders. Some were noble, most were commoners, but there is one thing all of them shared.

The same, glassy look on their faces: the feeling of giving up all hope of escape, of survival, of slowly losing their humanity in this accursed place. Mathilda had sympathy for them, but knew that no words would mend their wound, only escape would.

Finishing her bowl, she returned to her exercises, slowly building her already considerable strength. She wasn't scrawny, even as a child, and her physical prowess only grew as she joined the Knights, but here what was a respectable part of her became her only source of contentment as she pushed herself day after day.

" _Clive is coming for me, I know it."_ She thought. _"I won't fall to my inner demons. Mila will give me the strength to get through this."_

Suddenly a clanking sound reached her ears, the sound of a hatch opening. But it wasn't noon yet, where their second portion was served. Mathilda got up and clenched her fists, preparing for anything.

What she wasn't prepared for, was a familiar face stepping down towards the dungeon. The silver-haired knight approached the cells; spear in hand, his eyes scanning each and every one of the cells until he looked at hers. He motioned to his two guards and the jailor. "Leave."

The three nodded hesitantly before exiting. As he approached her cell door, she was still in shock at what was happening. Fernand looked at her and stayed silent, his lips twisted in a scowl.

"F-Fernand? Is that you?" She asked, though she knew the answer. And what it meant.

He stood still there, silent. For a second Mathilda thought she was in some twisted dream, a product of her isolation. But Fernand finally stopped his silence, speaking in a cold and even tone. "Yes, Mathilda, it is me. I have been sent here to…execute you."

The golden-haired knight actually shuffled back, part of her mind refusing to believe that this is reality. That he would betray them both for Desaix. "W-why…?" She whispered out, sounding more pleading that she realized. "Why would you betray the Deliverance?"

"It is Clive who betrayed the Deliverance, who betrayed our ideals." He said softly, opening her cell. His spear was clutched tightly in his hands.

"I'm merely doing what needs to be done."

* * *

As the sun continued to rise, arrows flew from both sides as waves of Terrors rushed out of the fortress. Horrid, twisted bodies with shapes reminiscent of faces, the monstrosities charged down without regard for strategy, and were felled by waves of arrows or fire. But they were merely distraction for the more dangerous threats, as cavalry rushed out and struck at exposed sides of the Deliverance, and retreated just as quickly.

Desaix knew that he was in a defensible position, and he intended to exploit it for all it's worth. The only way for the Deliverance to ensure victory is to fight through hordes of Terrors and soldiers in order to gain ground. He hoped to drown them in a tide of corpses.

Thankfully, the recruitment of a certain mage makes things easier for them, as with two sources of power spells, and with Luthier far more experienced than Kliff, the army managed to gain ground more than either side expected.

Luthier shot out a storm of magic that sucked in several Terrors and even a few cavalry in, sweeping them up to fall to their deaths. Not wanting to be bested, Kliff let loose bolts of lighting that pierced the archers on the wall, severing one archer's arm and forcing the rest to hide. Already the men were using the opening the mages gave them to rush to the gates, where the next tide of Terrors awaited them.

"How long until they're ready?" Kliff muttered, casting another bolt towards a brave archer, trying to get a shot in. The bold hit him square in the chest and sent him falling over the wall, smoke pouring out of his body.

"We need to buy them time." Alm said as he sliced through three terrors at once, only for three more to appear to harass him. Looking to his side, Lukas was saving a downed soldier by pinning his attack to the ground with his spear. Others weren't as lucky as Terrors ripped limbs off mercilessly, while other fell to spear or sword.

They were gaining ground, but it required a heavy toll.

Suddenly, a flap of wings emerged as Faye and Clair leaped into action, for once not acting as harassers but as support for the army, only fighting when needed.

And one other important gambit, the centerpiece of their assault.

They just needed to buy a little more time.

* * *

Fernand, spear raised high, looked at her friend, eyes wide open.

He had to do this, he had to.

But why couldn't he move?

Once more, memories began to flood into his mind. Memories of friendship, of comfort, intertwined with memories of pain. He remembered a rainy day, where she placed a reassuring hand on her soldier, to help him grieve, to help him forget about the pain.

He couldn't kill her, she meant too much to him.

Slowly lowering the spear, he tossed it to the ground in front of her and turned away, suddenly too ashamed to even be in her sight. He stood there ominously, eyes closed to deny himself that he had almost murdered her in cold blood.

"Fernand?" Her voice whispered out. He looked back to see that she had grasped his spear tightly, as if it were the only thing keeping her standing.

"Go." He said tersely. It was all he could manage to say.

"Not without you, Fernand. I don't know what happened, but I know you can still make this right." She pleaded, her hand clasping his. He stayed silent, but nodded.

He wasn't sure why. In his heart, he still believed in his ideals. That the nobility deserves to rule over common folk, that they required guidance to be better than what they were. Without that, they become no better than the savages that murdered his parents.

So what has changed?

" _Nothing."_ He concluded. Nothing has changed about him or what he believed, but he wasn't about to throw away the life of his love for the sake of that, even if her heart can never be his, even if it means going back on Prince Berkut.

"We'll need help." She said, grabbing his cell keys and unlocking the other cells. The prisoners barely moved, only managing to glance up and look at her with the same glassy, emotionless eyes.

Except there was something else hidden within those eyes, something minuscule, like a spark. It was hope, the hope of escape, vengeance. They slowly stood up and looked at one another: murderers, commoners, thieves and farmers, different men with different stories.

It didn't matter now. Down in the dungeons, such distinction was lost on these people. Some of them grabbed spears, swords, or even poles. Anything to defend themselves with, to prevent their freedom from being snatched from them.

"Listen." Mathilda began speaking as Fernand came up beside her, feeling nostalgic at what was happening. "I don't know who you men are, and frankly, I don't care at the moment. Right now all that matters is that you all help each other out of this dungeon. Fernand, what's the situation outside?"

Feeling shocked for a moment, Fernand stood more crisply, as if a recruit on his first day of training. She always had that effect on her. "Security was tight, but Desaix is most likely preoccupied with the battle outside. We'll still have to fight our way out."

"Seems like now is a prime opportunity." Mathilda pointed out. "Once we escape, you can all go your separate ways, but until we've escape, you all listen to me. Do I make myself understood?"

Some of them slowly nodded, which soon spread amongst the group of prisoners. Some of them, presumably soldiers who've heard of her reputation, saluted proudly.

Nodding back, she quickly marched up the dungeon stairs, her ragtag squadron forming up disorderly behind her. Slamming the door open, she was met with two confused guards, but didn't give them the chance as she stabbed a spear through one of their necks while the other was taken by two others, a third stabbing his chest.

Standing at the edge of the dungeon, Fernand stood there. His mind was still torn between two worlds. He could still stop this, he could…

"Come on." A voice called out to him. A voice he didn't want to silence.

Reluctantly, he followed.

* * *

Miles high above the sky, Gray nervously had his hand on his hilt, gripping it tightly as Clair spotted the wall.

"There, an opening." The lady pointed out, to a clearing on the wall where there were no living archers, just charred or bolted corpses. "Are you ready, Gray?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." He muttered back as they descended, Faye following soon after with Tobin on his back. Already he felt his queasiness rise along with the speed, and he felt as if he'll never get used to flight.

"Gray?" Clair whispered out, so softly that he could barely hear it.

"Yeah?"

"Please stay safe." She said, her tone almost seeming vulnerable.

Those three words suddenly made his feeling of sickness disappear, as the two flew down onto the wall below, the young man quickly hopped off, feet hitting solid stone and drawing his sword. He looked back and gave her a reassuring smile, and she flew again without saying another word.

" _I try to look cool and she ignores me. Seems about right."_ He thought dryly as he quickly slashed at the archer closest to him, splitting his throat open. The rest along the wall turned towards him and drew their bows, some even pulling out knives.

A few arrows struck the archers on the back as Tobin immediately formed up behind Gray, firing relentlessly while his friend was charging the knife wielders. The archers formed up and tried to form protective lines, but their weapons proved to be poor defensive weapons and Gray effortlessly smashed through them.

As more and more people got ferried by the pegasi riders onto the walls, which included Forsyth and Kliff, the Deliverance forces started to gain ground on the walls. The archers tried to stop by shooting at the soldiers as they descended, but it was too late. The southern part of the battlefield was squarely on the Deliverance's side as they pushed through the open gates.

Still, taking the gate brought up another challenge as the tide of Terrors continued to choke the entrance, preventing them from proceeding. Gray glanced down between slashes and saw Alm effortlessly cleave through men and Terrors alike, but making no more progress than he did a few minutes ago.

"We have to help them." Gray said to the strike force. _His_ strike force, as he mentally corrected himself. He still wasn't sure why Alm entrusted command to him, especially when half the composed force included officers with much more experience and decorum than he did.

"Kliff, stay on the wall and rain hell on them." Gray said, surprised at how easily he got into the swing of things. To say the boy was stupid or dull would be an almost insulting misunderstanding. He had some acumen of tactics, especially when exposed to real combat during his tenure as a Deliverance soldier. But he never had to take up a leadership position till now.

"Forsyth, pick two of your best man and guard him. The rest of you are coming with me, we need to secure the interior of this fort here otherwise we'll be walking in between two armies and a ton of Terrors."

Forsyth saluted and picked out two men, and Gray immediately headed for the tower, Tobin and the others at his back. It felt…good, to be leading men. He always thought of leadership as something fearful, or something nobles preached to prove their superiority over others.

But now he finally understood it, at least a little bit, the consideration and the fear of making a bad move, and the consequences that followed, but also the exhilaration, the thrill and craving of success.

In the tower, they found more soldiers stationed. They made quick work of the confused soldiers as they cut through, descending down some stairs and into the fortress beyond.

As they made their way down the hall, they found another group at the other end, finishing off two guards. All of them wore rags of some kind, save for one.

Fernand, the traitor.

* * *

As the two groups intersected, both uncertain of the other, a Deliverance soldier marched stepped forward.

"TRAITOR!" He bellowed at Fernand, sword drawn. Suddenly the prisoners drew their swords defensively. A tense silence followed.

"Enough." A voice shouted. A woman holding a spear came forward. "I don't recognize any of you, but I presume you're Deliverance men?"

"Y-yeah? Why would you...?" The same soldier stated, before his jaw grew wide and his expression changed to one of complete shock. "L-lady Mathilda, is that you?"

"Yes, it is." The woman said proudly, leading the others to share their looks of shock, Gray and Tobin included. Their mission was to break out Lady Mathilda and make sure Desaix had no hostage to bargain with in the event of a victory, but it seemed that she managed to break out herself.

The soldiers immediately saluted to her, recognizing her rank regardless of being a newly freed prisoner. Gray and Tobin, still in shock, awkwardly did so as well after the others.

"What was your mission, soldier?" He said to them, spear held up confidently. Even in rags, she had an aura of command around her, a soldier regardless of what she was wearing.

"Uh…to rescue you." Gray pointed out, a light blush forming on his cheeks. "But it seems you've, uh, done that yourself, sir."

"Yes." Mathilda dryly pointed out. "And now?"

"To secure the walls so that the Deliverance doesn't get surrounded, sir."

"Good thinking." Mathilda said, turning to her prisoners. Most of them were still alive, and in better morale since their imprisonment. They all looked to her, waiting for orders. "Well, we'll assist you. We've already taken down some of the guards here, the faster we secure it, the sooner we can pressure Desaix's forces."

"Beg your pardon, sir. But what's he doing here?" Tobin said to Fernand, bow still in his hand. He kept his eyes on him throughout the entire encounter, ready to stick and arrow in him. "He turned traitor against us to join with the Rigellians. As far as we're concerned, he's one of them."

"He's the one who got me out in the first place." She said, gently but firm. She wanted to understand their suspicion, mostly because it was all too well founded, but he also didn't want to condemn his friend either. "I know what happened, and while he will face punishment for his crimes, now's neither the time nor the place. I'll keep an eye on him. After this battle is done, we'll take him to Clive to sort things out. Am I understood?"

She uttered the last statement a little forcefully than she intended, but if anyone objected to her words, none were brave enough to speak it. Instead, the men simply saluted, Gray and Tobin included. However, they still maintained a wary eye over Fernand, who was also looking back with hostility.

" _One thing at a time."_ She thought. She knew this wasn't going to be solved in a single day, or perhaps even until the war has ended. Sighing to herself, she turned to the two boys. "Alright, what's the plan?"

* * *

Luthier hadn't expected that his first day as a member of the Deliverance would be quite so…taxing. He thought that as he blew away three more Risen, their bodies turning quickly into dust. His robe was left unscratched, save for a few splotches of blood from some unlucky soldier nearby. He made a mental note to wash those spots very thoroughly.

Slowly but surely, the Deliverance was making progress. They were already in the fortress, the courtyard firmly under their control. However they found themselves swarmed by more Terrors on all sides, and found them halted yet again as the enemies near infinite reserve started to strain them.

If only they could find that damnable Cantor…

And then he saw it, an unholy shadow with glowing purple eyes, and hidden deep amongst the tide. His purplish skin revealed hideous scars and gashes, yet his entire body thrummed with magical power, the source of this malignant horde, a Cantor, servant of Duma.

The same kind of wretched people who abducted his sister, his family's future.

He called out to Alm, a rare sense of anger rising within him. He had fought foes before, bandits threatening his villager, the occasional Terror, but this was a personal saw killing as something necessary, but ambivalent, but this was someone who he not only felt like he needed to take down, but would feel pride and pleasure doing it.

Alm looked to the Cantor and said. "Do you think you can take him?"

He nodded confidently. If there was nothing else that Luthier was good at, he would still be supremely confident in matters of magical nature.

"I and the others will keep the Terrors away." He said, gesturing to his men. Immediately they turned formation and began to drive the monsters back with a hard push. Luthier took the opportunity, and dashed through a hole in their ranks.

The cantor immediately noticed him, and cackled in a voice that wasn't entirely his. His raised arm was filled with a purplish aura, which seemed to suck the shadows around him. Pointing at Luthier, the Cantor shot out a bolt of miasmic energy.

The mage caught it in his hand, and pain immediately shot up his entire body, down to the very marrow of his bones. He felt it churning his stomach, trying to let him drop his defenses, let down his guard so that the spell can consume him entirely.

However, he was more than used to power. He deflected the shot with more effort than he'd ever admit, and the Cantor's face turned to one of annoyance. Another spell flared in his hand, but he was too slow. Luthier shot a bolt of lightning at him, crackling as it arc through the sky. The Cantor simply took it in his hand as it dimmed and faded, its power gone.

Again and again, spells lashed out between them as spell met with spell as men and Terrors died around them. Luthier shot out more and more spells, which the Cantor was forced to defend. Keeping up the pressure, he shot out more and more spells, feeling his energy sap with each cast.

He couldn't win, but he wasn't planning to. He merely wanted to buy his time and effort.

The tide of terrors started to cease as the Cantor focused on the duel, and soon were thinned to just a few manageable strays. Several soldiers quickly charged at the Cantor, which responded with a wave of miasma that shot throughout him, making several soldiers kneel in pain as blood flowed down their faces.

 _NOW!_

Using the last of his power, Luthier poured all of his might towards his next spell, which surged towards the Cantor. His opponent tried to shield himself, but it was too late. He felt himself being caught in a tempest of energy. He felt his limbs tear apart, and tried to scream, but felt his breath being taken away as his lung instantly gave out.

Despite that, his corpse continued to be tore apart piece by piece, and eventually, with Luthier kneeling down and exhausted, with no trace of the Cantor to be seen. He felt a hand clasp on his shoulder and saw Alm, smiling at him proudly.

"Good work, Luthier. Their Terrors are gone." He said in a comforting tone. "Go and get some rest, we'll handle the rest of Desaix's men."

He stood up, feeling an odd sense of pride at hearing him. He nodded silently and headed to the healers, his hand on his head. He was tired, and he needed some rest. Slowing walking back out the gate, he could only hope the rest of the army didn't need him any time soon.

* * *

Gray cleaved another soldier in the side. His body and sword was coated with blood, but he wasn't nearly as soaked as Mathilda, who seem to bathe in it. Watching her was distracting; not because of her beauty, but because of how she fought.

It could only be described as beautiful. She darted around them room, dodging a spear thrust by just an inch while swinging her spear, sweeping another foe off her feet as she spun around and swatted away another thrust, and ended one of her attacker's life with a quick thrust. Never a movement wasted, never a seconded unmoved. He was having trouble believing she was able to be captured in the first place.

They were quickly making their way in the fortress, slaughtering men as they passed. The place was in disarray, and that made it easy for them to progress, and soon they found themselves standing at the doorway to the main hall.

"I think it's best if I stay guard outside." Fernand said, looking disgusted. He stayed silent throughout their assault, barely participating in battle at all and simply looking sullen. Not that anyone in the Deliverance cared, as they continued to look him with suspicion.

"Keep watch over him." Gray whispered to Tobin as Mathilda assigned people to guard the entrance while the rest entered the halls. She respected her position as leader, but that didn't mean he trusted that arrogant traitor in the slightest. Tobin quickly nodded as he put a hand over an arrow, his eyes glinting with anticipation.

Mathilda knocked open the door, which revealed a lavished looking ballroom. It wasn't quite as big as the one in Zofia castle, but what it lost in size it made up in avaricious splendor. The walls were painted gold, and the pillars were adorned with red strips of shiny cloth. The floor was polished to a glossy sheen, and all around were paintings, statues and other such embellishments, all depicting power, luxury, and pleasure.

On the other side of the hall stood Desaix and a company of men, shields locked and spears out. Some of them were Zofian, the rest Rigellians. Behind them stood the man himself, clad in purple armor inlaid with gold. He carried a gigantean javelin with him, and despite the situation, looked as arrogant as he ever did.

"Haha, so you managed to escape." He said haughtily. "I knew that coward Fernand would never have the heart to kill you himself. Once I deal with all of you here, his head will be next."

"You talk big for someone who's cornered." Gray spat out, angrier than he thought he was. He knew that he was never under Desaix's radar, even after their little clash at Zofia, but he still riled him up. Not just for what he represented to both him and Zofia, but for nearly killing Clair, and him as well.

He was going to settle the score today.

"Ha! Do you take me for a fool?" He said, laughing out loud. "Haven't it ever occurred to you that you entered here far too easily, that the guard was far too lax?"

With a gesture of his hand, several more troops poured out into the side doors, brandishing swords. Many of them wore heavy armor, and soon the group found themselves outnumbered and surrounded. Even so, none of them floundered, their hateful eyes still dug into Desaix.

Not a second soon passed before the two sides charged, with not a sense of fear in their eyes.

* * *

Lukas shoved his spear into an enemy's throat as he emerged from a doorway. Ordinarily, it would have been a surprise, but repeated attempts have made him wary enough to expect it by now. They were no less frustrating to him and his men though, for each ambushed whittled away at their time.

Desaix's Fortress was a labyrinth of hallways, rooms and towers. Deciding to divide and conquer, Alm had split the army into five divisions, with the objecting of finding and killing Desaix or liberating lady Mathilda as swiftly as possible.

Despite that, they were constantly hampered by lone ambushes from corridors, secret entrances and other such measures. They managed to kill off several unwary soldiers, but the losses sustained were insignificant, as heartless though it may be to see lives lost as "insignificant", that was what went on in Lukas's highly pragmatic mind.

Still, they were obviously ordered to stall for time, as most simply fled to presumably coordinate another ambush with another group to stall for time yet again, delay and placate, a dishonorable yet effective tactic, one which Lukas assumed the other divisions were under as well.

Still, it was one that they were forced to endure; for ignoring those ambushes meant the possibility that they could inflict truly significant damage upon their numbers. And so they went on sluggishly, searching room after room and wiping out any ambushers there.

As they continued to march down the hallway, they were met with a barricade of soldiers, spears at the ready. Sighing, Lukas charged towards them with fervor.

* * *

The battle in the hallway raged on into a frenzy of a dozen little battles between Deliverance and Rigellian forces. A prisoner managed to catch an enemy soldier off guard, only for his neck to be sliced open by an axe from another soldier. The battle ebbed and flowed as both sides pushed forward and back in a deliberate dance of duels.

During a lull however, arrows began to pour from above. On the balcony above archers began to rain down death upon the Deliverance, thinning their numbers.

Gray grunted as he was forced to dodge two arrows in the middle of a battle with another enemy, who took advantage of the opportunity and thrust his spear, which hit his soldier. Gray gritted at the pain and simply backed off, and found his back against Mathilda.

"These archers are going to be a pain." He whined, a bit more frustrated than he intended. Mathilda, however, nodded.

"Think you can get up on that balcony?" Mathilda said as he dodged another arrow, simultaneously slamming her spear down on an enemy's chest. It seems even under pressure from fire, she was unrelenting.

Gray surveyed the balcony in between. There were no stairs to speak off, and the pillars were made from tough marble. Still, he had an idea. A crazy, suicidal idea, but it was either that or a surefire defeat.

"Yeah, just buy me some time." He responded, steeling himself for what he was about to do. The older knight nodded and began moving to more open ground to draw fire. Gray made a quick prayer to Mila…

…and dashed straight towards the enemy knights.

The guys in armored stood still, sentinels within their iron walls. If Gray could discern what their feelings were, it was probably surprise mixed with a bit of amusement. After all, charging an armored line along is suicide.

They locked their shields in place and stood firm, which was what the villager was counting on. In a moment he put all of his energy towards his legs and jumped, his feet immediately landed on one of their shields, just thick enough for him to carry some semblance of balance, enough for him to take another leap.

The knights tried to slash at his legs, but were too slow and Gray too agile. In a single bound, he leapt up, letting momentum guide him. Time stopped for an instant and he felt like this was a foolish idea, that it would never work, that he would die performing a stupid attempt at being a hero.

Thankfully, his feet landed on the balcony railing, the faces of shocked archers lining his sight. He lashed out before they could react, slashing through two of their throats and the shoulder of a third. The rest of them hastily pulled out knives, still stunned by the apparent breach of their safety, but close quarters was where Gray shined best.

Slash after slash after slash, he moved like a whirlwind, killing archers with every swing. He didn't even bothering parrying any of the knives that were coming for him, instead simply dodging and twisting until he could kill again. His skill was still far beneath Mathilda or even Alm, but he would not let it be said that he couldn't fight well.

The last few archers managed to put some resistance, but it was ultimately of no use. Fresh blood has soaked him once more, and Gray put out a slow sigh. He felt exhilarated, but tired. He was getting tired of fighting, as much as he was good at it.

He surveyed down from the balcony a bit, and saw the horrors of war.

Bodies being trampled over to get an advantage, the floor now stained with pools of blood. The intermingling of bodies as men did not care what they had to do; all they needed to do was survival. Gray felt sick to his stomach.

It was horrific, it was wrong, but it was war.

" _Well, I always wanted a reason to fight."_ Gray thought grimly, standing on the balcony railing once again, feeling as though he were on top of a mountain, looming over the darkness. " _Stopping this is as good as any."_

He jumped down without a second thought.

* * *

Desaix watched over the battle in relative safety behind his wall of men, and yet he found himself massively displeased.

For as outnumbered and outmatched as they were, prisoners and Deliverance soldiers were still fighting on. They died in droves, true, but so did his men. His gambit relied upon the swift destruction of any who marched in hear, while his men delayed the others so that he could crush them while divided, instead of facing a unified force.

The crippling of his archers posed another delay, thanks to some foolhardy commoner. His displeasure turned into seething rage as time wore on. The Deliverance was thinning, but not nearly far enough for him to ensure swift victory, not far enough for reinforcements to arrived to a slaughtered army.

In the centre of the room, Mathilda was fighting like a beast, intimidating the men in front of her as she spun in a bloody arc that tore through soldiers. Behind her, men were cheering even as they fought against difficult odds. It now became clear who must fall in order for him to succeed.

Gripping his javelin tightly he charged into the fray. He had let lesser men handle his affairs for too long, now it was time for all to know why Desaix shall be the new and only ruler of Zofia.

Mathilda saw the men before her shatter and retreat, and smiled confidently. It was clear their morale was sinking for failing to defeat what they thought was a weakened foe. All they need to do is hold out a little-

A whirling lance sent her scrambling back, spear nearly hitting her head as she barely dodged it. The man who threw it pulled on the chain attached to it with considerable force, and it yanked itself out of the floor into the hands of its owner.

Desaix walked out, pushing aside his soldiers as a look of pure rage lined his face, veins showing at the corner. He didn't say anything, not any proclamations of arrogance or intimidation. It made him all the more menacing as he thrust his spear towards Mathilda again, who slapped it aside with her spear.

Desaix didn't relent as he swiped and stabbed with his heavy javelin, far quicker than his build would have him indicate. Mathilda was having a hard time keeping up as she parried and dodge, no opportunity to counter attack presented itself, and everyone else was too busy fighting Desaix's men.

That is, until Gray stepped in, aiming his sword thrust towards his head. He swiftly twisted it aside and countered, but was forced to stop and step backwards when Mathilda aimed for his feet. The tide has turned and now he found himself against two foes.

"You're going to pay for what you've done." Gray spat out, eyeing him for any sudden moves.

This only drew a dark laugh, without mirth. "Oh? Am I supposed to know you boy, or what I've done to you? You'll have to be more specific."

Gray's answer was a slash, which was deftly blocked as Mathilda charged after. Steel clashed as Desaix continued to be forced on the defensive, block after block after block. He finally saw his opportunity and retaliated with a powerful slashed, with enough force that Mathilda was knocked backwards.

Gray, however, managed to dodge in time and kept on building pressure, fighting harder, more dangerously. He felt his body on the edge of exhaustion, which any further pushes would result in his collapse, and yet he continued assaulting his foe, slash after slash.

Desaix grunted as a blow connected onto his shoulder, denting his armor and sending a jolt of pain. He tried to retaliate, but was met to a blow on his side, which caused him further pain. Gray stepped back as he tried to crush him, giving himself a split second to catch his breath before landing another blow to his arm.

He tried to aim for his other arm, but felt himself getting sluggish. His body was finally catching up to the fatigue.

" _No…not now."_ Gray pleaded, but it was no use. Desaix noticed his weakness and thrust his spear, point aimed at his chest. He was too slow, he would die.

He felt his body being pushed away as the thrust nearly hit him, and saw two arrows land directly onto Desaix's neck. His look of utter shock as his clutched his neck, blood pouring out.

"Damn…you all…maggots." He said out, even as he knelt. His death would soon follow. "Zofia…was meant to be mine to…claim…you…"

He collapsed before he could finish, blood pooling around his body. The rest of the enemy forces, disheartened, either retreated or surrendered when the more Deliverance reinforcements poured in. Victory at last.

Gray looked up, that simple action felt impossible with his condition, but at last saw his savior. Mathilda looked down at Desaix's corpse, a satisfied scowl on her face.

"You did well, soldier." She commented without looking away. "I was honored to have fought alongside you."

Gray blushed despite himself, and turned away to make sure no one was looking at him. Sadly, the one person who he didn't want to see right now just so happened to be walking towards him, waving.

"Well, looks like you took a beating." Tobin said, bow still in his hand. "Thought you were a goner for a second, so I put some arrows into Desaix."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." He said, groaning. He truly did appreciate his help, but he got the feeling he was never going to hear the end of it for a while. Such is the price of coming short.

"Anyways…" Tobin continued, drawing back his bow and lifting Gray up with his shoulder. "Alm's busy dealing with the remaining men still in the castle, and we're relieved of duty."

"Thank Mila for that." Gray said appreciatively.

The two friends headed out of the room, but not before Gray took one look at the carnage that passed. Blood pooled on the floor, bodies mutilated. He couldn't help but feel a bit defeated despite the victory.

He detached from Tobin and stumbled a bit to a corpse. It was one of the foray groups, dead eyes still opened as his body was filled with holes. He shut off his eyelids and gave a quick prayer. It wasn't much, but it was something.

He can only hope that his prayer was answered, if it was even heard.

 **And that's it for this chapter, where we have finally headed into true AU territory. Next chapter will be dealing with the consequences of having defected twice over, as well as a little bonding between Gray and Clair. Till then –ArcanaHermit.**


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9: Letting Things Go_

As dusk started to settle in, Clive brushed his hand on the table of his room, as if to support him. The man sitting before him, bound to his chair by rope. Fernand didn't speak a word, not even an angry look brushed over his face, even as his former friend was expecting him to scream at the humility of being tied up like a thief.

"Why…" Clive said, his voice hollow, his expression grim.

"I believe I made my reasons for leaving you and yours quite clear." Fernand replied, though without the usual arrogance and anger that he expressed. This conversation was starting out unexpectedly from both men, as they expected shouting and accusations aplenty, as they had in their last days together as friends.

And yet…there was nothing. No anger, no debate. Those roads were crossed a long time ago, and now…what became of them, a man supporting a supposed commoner, and a man who turned his back on his allies, his principles, twice.

"That's not what I meant." He said. "Why did you help us now? After all that you said, why would you aid us in so dire a moment?"

"Hah." Fernand spat out, his temper coming to the forefront once again. "I didn't do it for you, old friend. And I certainly didn't do it for your blasted Deliverance. I did it…for her."

The two stared in silence. Mathilda and Clive's reunion was nothing short of something from a fairy tale, with the two in passionate embrace in front of the entire army. But however sweet that memory was, he refused to let her or Clair see Fernand. This wasn't a matter for the soft-hearted, and while he would not call either woman that on the battlefield, he couldn't trust them around such a personal issue.

Truth be told, he wasn't sure he should be passing judgment on such a personal issue either.

"What will you do if I release you?" Clive asked, though it was more a hypothetical question than a realistic one.

"Hmph, I am now a traitor to Rigel. I'll be executed on sight if I were to go back." He said bluntly, looking to the side. "And I am still a traitor to Zofia, so I'd imagine my welcome to my former lands would be just as inviting. I am dead no matter what road I go, so you might as well execute me and be done with it."

There was an emotion that Clive had not felt from his friend in a long time. Hopelessness. The last time he felt it was when his parents died, and only for an instant before it was replaced by smoldering anger. Now, however…he fully expects to die, almost eager for it.

"Is that what you wish?" Clive asked. "To die so dishonorably, without any hope of redemption. Is that how your legacy wishes to end?"

Fernand stayed silent, not speaking a word as he contemplated what he said.

"Is what you say during our clash true?" Clive said. "Is Alm really unrelated to Mycen? Do not lie to me on this, old friend."

"Hah, why would I?" Fernand said. "I assure you, he is not of Mycen's blood. He is just a normal common village boy. Is that who you wish to rule Zofia, Clive? Is that going to be her legacy?"

"I…" Clive trailed off before sitting back down on his chair, looking at him straight in the eye. The two stared at each other, as they ponder the questions the other presented to them.

* * *

"Heya Faye, what's for dinner?" Tobin asked Faye as she dropped several vegetables into a pot, the thick broth. Faye greeted him with a smile, and poured white liquid from a bottle down towards it, smiling happily.

"You guys in for a real treat." Faye said as she smelled the broth, making a satisfied noise as she did. "I'm adding yogurt to the broth this time, as well as a few other spices I managed to pick up."

"Whoa, no kidding." He replied as he took a whiff of the broth, its faint smell bringing his sense to bliss. "It's been ages since we've had a meal smell this good. Where you get the yogurt?"

"From Desaix's pantry same as the rest of the spices, silly. For once, I'm actually glad there's a greedy noble out there, since we're getting his stuff." Faye said as he put more wood into the fire, stoking it further. "Reminds me of the time we would have leftover yogurt just before it was spoilt back at the village, huh?"

"Yeah, the good ol days before our lives weren't in peril every other day." He said dryly. "Anyways, I'm still exhausted from all the fighting. I could sleep for a week if I could."

Faye simply rolled her eyes and poured him the first bowl. The both of them smiled at each other as the rest of the villagers started grabbing their bowls. In wake of the victory, the chat was lively and the tone inviting, save for a noticeable absence.

"Clair's not here, huh?" Gray said, dejected. "Must still be hung up over that Fernand business, I hear he's still at Clive's tent."

"Of course." Kliff said as he took a silent bite of his stew, contrasting Tobin's eager and loud ravaging. "They both go way back, and he's noble on top of that, of course he's being held prisoner."

"You said it." An embittered voice said, coming from another fire. It was another Deliverance soldier, his bright yellow hair standing out. He was sharing a meal with two others, Python being one of them. "I guarantee you, if he had been commoner, he'd be executed already. But he just so happened to be born under the right people, damned nobles.

The Ram Villagers met them with silence, until Gray spoke up. "Well, not all the nobles are bad, right? You wouldn't follow Clive otherwise."

"There are some good nobles, but that doesn't excuse the bad apples." Python said bluntly as he leaned back further, acting lazily as ever. "Clive's just the exception, not the rule. Truth is, most of the nobility don't give a damn about people like us. It's just the way the world works. Think how many of us died just because a guy we never met said so."

Again, more silence, and the two groups decided to attend to their own, wishing to discuss no further. Not out of disagreement, the fact that nobles didn't care for commoners and thought them superior was readily apparent; rather they didn't want to dim a night of celebration with cynicism over how the world was.

Still, the absence of Clair was more and more apparent by the second, as her loud presence and even louder banter left a shadow among the group, who sometimes found it awkward when they expected her to speak.

"H-hey, mind if we join with you lot?" A weak voice croaked out, and the Deliverance turned around once again to see a group, though a much newer one than most.

Gray couldn't name any specific names, but the group as a whole was the prisoners that were freed by Mathilda. Though their numbers were reduced to only a handful, each and every one of them decided to join the Deliverance, and was dubbed into the new retinue under Mathilda's command.

"Sure." Gray said without consulting the others, though they didn't seem to mind. "You guys have had a rough day, so relax as much as you want."

The group gratefully sat down and mingled with the Deliverance. Talk was light, mostly about their pasts. Most were farmers, the rest thieves, but there was one noble among them, but he didn't sound like it, treating the commoners beside him as brothers at arms rather than someone beneath them. It was a refreshing sight to see.

As the moon continued to shine down on the courtyard, Gray saw at the corner of his eye Clair. She was at one of the courtyard entrances, shade covering most of her. He felt someone nudge him and saw that Tobin also noticed, and was prodding him to go to her.

Obliging, Gray made some excuse to go out and walked calmly across the courtyard, looking around. The men here were all commoners save for the noble at their fire. The rest of the nobility were having a feast at the fortress's hall, which Gray fought in earlier. The very idea that people could have a lavish meal so soon after such a massacre, even if it was rid of corpses and blood, made him sick.

" _Then again, I'm not a "noble"."_ Gray thought morosely. _"They probably valued their dinner over what happened there. Bah!"_

His thought souring his mood, Gray nearly forgot that he was in the dark courtyard entrance, where he was mere feet away from Clair. The two stared at each other, before Gray gave an awkward wave.

Clair flashed a smile. "That's not how you address a lady properly." She said wittily.

Gray made a deep bow, causing her to smile a little. That alone was worth it for Gray, who was grinning ear to ear. "Heh, I hope that's enough. What are you doing here, tricks? Shouldn't you be at the noble's feast or something?"

"Lady Mathilda's presence is enough, so Clive and I excused early." She said, unusually hesitant. "Um, Gray. Would you mind…walking with me for a while? I need to clear my mind of things."

"U-uh, sure…" The boy replied, nearly sputtering over his words. Clair walked into the fortress, Gray sheepishly following her. The two stayed in silence as they passed a few soldiers giving them curious glances, though none seem to mind them.

Finally, they stopped at one of the gardens, empty save for a few patrols. It reminded Gray of Zofia, and the archery competition he had with Kliff and Tobin. The two look different, this garden neatly trimmed and ordered while the other was left to its natural growth, but it was enough to evoke the memory.

Deciding that there has been enough silence, Gray spoke. "So, what do you wanna talk about? I'm honestly surprised you asked me of all people."

"Is it not normal to ask a friend?" Clair said, perplexed.

"No, it's just…I don't know, you probably want someone more refined than me, is all."

"Well, you ARE rather unrefined." Clair said, smiling slyly. "But you're also rather charming when you're not trying too hard, and you're a good listener, surprisingly."

"Wow, uh…thanks." Gray said, flattered by the compliments despite the slight sense of condescension to them. "Well, I'm listening. What's wrong?"

Clair looked away a bit, slightly embarrassed. She didn't actually plan on doing this. She simply wanted to get away from the banquet, too troubled to put up any sort of façade that she was enjoying it, but she wanted someone to speak to.

"It's Fernand, as you might have guessed." Clair said. "The people at the feast were rather…blunt regarding their feelings towards him, and what should be done with him."

"Well, glad to know we agree on something…" Gray muttered out before thinking, and immediately noticed Clair looking forlorn, immediately reprimanding himself for his idiocy. "Oh, I'm sorry. That's probably not what you wanted to hear…"

"Indeed, but better the harmful truth than a pleasing lie, especially from you Gray." She said firmly. "I know he's committed terrible crimes against us, but the fact that he was, and perhaps is, a close friend, still makes this hard for me."

"I can imagine." Gray could only say those words, for nothing else he thought of would suffice. "Look, I know he's your friend, and you two were close. But…damn it; I don't know what to say."

At that statement, Clair smiled, if only briefly. "Good, it wouldn't be you if you had the faintest idea of what you're saying."

"Hey, I know what to say…sometimes." Gray said, flustered. "It's just that I wasn't born a noble, so I don't know use fancy words like..."eloquent" or whatever."

"A true gentleman is measured by the value of his words, not the words themselves." Clair chided, but also started to laugh a little. Her problems were fading, if only for the moment. She found herself rather appreciative of Gray lately, and could easily consider him a close ally, despite the rough start the two had. Of course, she would never be completely comfortable with his lack of tact.

"Gray…" Clair said softly. "I've heard that you rescued Lady Mathilda during the battle with Desaix. In fact, she commended your bravery and courage, amongst other compliments."

"Really?" Gray replied, brushing his own hair nervously. The memories of the battle were growing more distant to him, and he could barely recall what he did. Or rather, he didn't want to know. He was tired of fighting. "I just did what I felt like, same as everyone else."

"You undervalue yourself. You performed exceptionally, and those who are exceptional deserve a reward." She said with a hint of pride, and walked back in to the castle.

He followed her, stunned by what she said. To him, her voice was reward for any task that was set his way. And now for him to be getting one from her personally was, in his mind, the best possible thing to have happened since he joined.

As they walked inside the castle, his mind raced as to what it could be. A lot of possibilities race through his head. So much so that when she finally stopped, he almost bumped into her. They were outside her room, which made his mind race even further. Silently, he was glad no one else was here, for they surely would have commented on the goofy look on his face.

"Wait here." Clair said before entering, shutting the door behind her.

As the seconds flew by, Gray grew ever more anxious, tapping his feet rapidly. Finally, Clair came out, a sheathed blade in her hands.

"Before I studied the spear and the pegasus, I studied the sword." Clair explained. "When I asked Clive to train me in the arts of war, he had a sword specifically made for me."

"Wait, you're giving me…this?" Gray said as she handed the sword to him. Even sheathed, he could see the craftsmanship that went into it. The hilt was elegantly carved and wrapped with high quality leather; the pommel made of brass and craved into the shape of vines. "Clair, I can't accept something like this. It's too important to you."

"I haven't used it in a long time, and I feel bad if all the effort that went into it simply amounted to rusting in a corner, never to be held." Clair said, taking off the sheath, revealing the intricate carvings done to the blade. "More importantly, as one of our most promising swordsman, it's only fitting that you wield a weapon as worthy as your skills."

Gray, feeling a sudden wave of pride, decided to take a few practice swings. The sword felt light, slicing through the air with little resistance, yet still powerful and balanced. Sheathing the sword and placing it on his hip, he felt happy at getting such a gift, and more importantly, who it was given by.

"Thank you, Clair." Gray said sincerely, bowing deeply in respect. "I'll make sure to use it the best I can, that's a promise."

"Good." Clair said, satisfied. They looked at each other and shared an odd, fond smile. "You know, a few months ago and I would never even consider letting you touch the sword, let alone hold it."

"Yeah…" Gray said. "Thank you. I'll make it up to you somehow, I promise."

* * *

As the moon shone directly overhead, signaling the beginning of midnight, Clive took another sip of his tea before setting it down. They've been at it for hours, him and Fernand. Arguing, accusing, but more often than not staying in silence.

"This is pointless." Fernand said. "Our ideals have been driven too far away, old friend. No matter how much you wish to dream, it seems we can never come into an accord."

The truth of the words stung, but Clive disregarded it. "Why do you choose death, even when I offer you a second chance? I never took you for a coward."

"Hah, the cowardly thing would be to accept your offer, not denying it." Fernand said. He was just as tired as Clive, red lines forming on the corner of his eye.

Clive, in frustration simply said back and rubbed his eyes. "Do you think Clair would approve of your decision? Or Mathilda? Or your parents? I tolerated your anger because of the injustice done to your family, and because I understood that deep down, you still valued what was true and just and you wanted to honor them. Is that all a lie?"

At that, Fernand said nothing. Instead leaning his head down like a child berated by his parent. The subject of his family was a touchy one, and the words cut deep. He recalled their memories for strength once, but more and more he had begun to forget them. Only the death, only the rage.

Without knowing, a tear former in his eye and rolled down his cheek. His visibly trembled, and could only whispered. "Mother, Father…"

"You've fought for your parents, killed and betrayed your country because of them." Clive began, feeling that he's finally made progress. "But I think that you haven't done the one thing that will heal that wound, old friend. Have you grieved for them?"

Another tear rolled down, and another, and another. Sobs started to form as memories began to flood his mind, memories that he tried to suppress, but whom he truly wished he didn't. Memories of happiness, of compassion, of love, as one by one they played in his mind.

He felt a shoulder grasp his hand, and saw that Clive was looking at him, a pained expression on his face. Despite all the trouble they've been through, he would not abandon his friend at his most vulnerable.

His silent encouragement, coupled with the memories, utterly broke Fernand. He burst into tears and openly wept; discarding any former resentment or hatred he carried. They would return, he knew. Hatred is a mark not washed away with ease, but for now he wanted nothing more than to remember better times, where he didn't needed or wanted to hate.

And as time continued to pass, the two friends stayed together in silence. But for once, it wasn't as enemies or different sides of an argument.

It was as friends, as what they were and possibly could still be.

* * *

Tobin dreamt a pleasant dream, that he has returned to Ram a hero, his family granted wealth to live the rest of their lives comfortably, but most of all that he'd earned the affections of-

A knocking sound dragged him away from his euphoric experience, much to his aggravation. He knew who it would be at this hour, and he simply sighed and took his practice sword. Opening the door, he saw Gray standing there, a bright smile washed on his face.

"You must really like waking me up if you're smiling that much." He said dryly. "Oh, and by the way, I was having an amazing dream until you took it away from me."

"Sorry, man. I just couldn't sleep." He said, his smile as bright as ever. "So, you up for training?"

"If only to beat you up for waking me, sure." Tobin replied, and the two friends immediately went out. Guards were lax in the fortress, most of it being focused on preventing any external threats from breaching the castle. So the two had little problem sneaking into the gardens.

Upon setting foot in the garden floor, Tobin immediately unsheathed his sword and swung at Gray, who immediately drew and blocked it.

"Hey, I wasn't ready." Gray complained as he blocked another blow.

"Don't care." Tobin replied, adding more and more swings. He was determined to make him work for the victory tonight. "Besides, how else are you going to explain that fancy sword on your hip? Been stealing from the armory again?"

"Oh this?" Gray said cheekily, a toothed smirk on his face as he parried and countered, effortlessly shifting one stance to the other. "It's a gift."

"A gift, that sword?" Tobin said, utterly confused. "I don't know who in their right mind would give you a sword that's as well made as…wait."

As realization started to dawn on him, the two continued their duel. Gray immediately felt at home with his new blade, slashing faster and more accurately than before without losing any power. Tobin found it hard to withstand his barrage, as he was forced completely onto defense.

Deciding to break the losing stalemate, Tobin charged recklessly into him, only to be hit in the back by the butt of his opponent's sword, falling to the ground with a thud. Gray, feeling flush with the victory, simply sat down and laugh with all the mirth he could muster.

"Damn, you've gotten better." Tobin said, rising up and groaning, rubbing his back to ease the pain.

"Maybe, but this sword is amazing." He said cheekily. "Just holding it makes me feel like I can take on a million soldiers at once."

"So, she really gave you that sword, huh?" He asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Yeah, I can't believe it either." Gray said, staring at the sword as if it were made of gold.

"Lucky you." Tobin replied dryly, sighing at his friend's gawking. "Anyways, we'll be marching tomorrow. Wonder what Clive will do to Fernand."

"Yeah…" Gray said, not focusing. Today was already an amazing day, he did not want it to me tainted by any difficult memories or questions.

"Speaking of new swords," Tobin remarked. "You heard Alm got one, right?"

Gray nodded his head. The details weren't particularly clear as he wasn't present at the time, but word spread fast that Alm had picked up the Royal Sword that Desaix stole, a sword enchanted to only be of use to those of royal bloodline.

"What do you think that means?" Tobin asked with a curious gaze as he watched the sky. "Apparently, whenever anyone else tries to wield it, it becomes as heavy as a boulder."

"I don't know. I mean, Alm does strike me as the royal type." Gray replied half jokingly. "All I know is that you're the only one among us without a fancy weapon."

"Hey, you wanna go another round?" Tobin said defensively. "I can beat you at archery no matter what bow I'm using."

"Oh, it's on." Gray said, and the two stood up and began to duel under the moonlight once more.

* * *

It was morning when Clive and Alm called the army to assemble in the courtyard. Already the atmosphere in the air was tense, even moreso when Fernand was brought out, unbound. He looked ragged, and there was a blank expression on his face.

Reactions to his appearance were mixed, though most cursed under their breath. The rest that didn't looked on with slight curiosity and not a small amount of anxiousness. A smaller few looked on with sympathy, though they made sure to hide it well amongst the once that expressed distaste.

"As you are well aware," Clive began the speech, his voice earnest and loud. "Fernand has betrayed Zofia and sided with the enemy. The punishment for high treason is either a life of imprisonment or immediate execution."

Several nodded their head in agreement.

"However, Fernand proved crucial effort in the battle against Desaix." Clive said. "He was sent to execute Lady Mathilda, but instead rescued and started an insurrection amongst the prisoners within the fortress. That insurrection, along with the strike force the Deliverance sent, was ultimately what led to Desaix's defeat and death."

Several others nodded in agreement as well, though some began to have dissatisfied faces among them. Mathilda began to testify about the truth of the matter, and while most found it genuine, some still remained unsatisfied.

"However, I will not let this one good deed wash away the betrayal that he has wrought upon us." Clive said, ending all discussion. His voice was firm but without malice. "He has both saved and condemned us, and thus he must be both punished and rewarded for his actions."

"As such, Fernand will be reinstated into the Deliverance, but will hold the lowest rank for the foreseeable future."

At that, the crowd erupted into chaos. One half shouted that it was unfair for a traitor to be pardoned, let alone reinstated. They accused Clive of biasness, and that he was being pardoned simply for being a noble and an old friend.

Yet another group pleaded mercy, that he was simply grief stricken and that being the lowest rank was a fair enough punishment. The two sides continued to argue, and it seemed that everything was beginning to fall apart.

A loud thud silenced the crowd. Turning around, they saw that Alm had slammed his gauntlet against the podium that Clive once stood on. He looked determined, and immediately all eyes went to him for judgment.

"Men of the Deliverance," he began earnestly. "I know that some of you condemn this sentence, and I will not argue against you. Instead, I ask you all. Do you see simply in terms of noble or commoner?"

"As you know, I was Sir Mycen's grandson. Yet I grew up all my life in a small village, without the formal education of most noble boys. Instead, I was raised with friends, villagers who have no claim to some powerful bloodline. I stole, climbed trees, and did the work of a farmhand. Tell me, does that expunge my right to be nobility? Does the fact that my grandfather is the great Sir Mycen expunge my childhood?"

Silence followed as the crowd.

"I know that the line between common and noble is a large one, and has bore much hatred on both ends." He continued. "But I ask, for the sake of the country you all were born and raised in, to lay down your hatred of each other. Think not of each other as peasant or lord, but as fellow soldiers fighting to defend your homes, your families."

Clive couldn't help but compare that with his speech when he just formed the Deliverance, where he preached of similar equality. But unlike before, he saw the men were actually listening, and he couldn't but feel a mixture of relief, pride, and jealousy.

"What we're offering Fernand isn't forgiveness, but a chance for redemption." He stressed. "And if he proves to be worthy of it, I hope you all can find it in your heart to accept him, regardless of standing."

At that, the men around them nodded, though a few begrudgingly so. Everyone started to disperse, mostly to gather their thoughts on the situation.

Alm let out a heavy sigh. He wasn't meant to speak, but the arguing was getting to him. He started to turn around and saw a set of eyes fix upon him. Fernand's eyes pierced into his, and his expression was one of disbelief.

"Why…" He said. "Why would you of all people defend me, after all I've done, after all I've said?"

Alm simply shook his head. "I trust Clive's judgment. If he says you deserve a second chance, then I believe him."

All Fernand could do was stay silent, awestruck at the generosity he'd been shown.

* * *

It was slightly past noon as the Deliverance marched out, leaving a small but capable force to defend Desaix' Fortress. The Ram Villagers save for Faye, who scouted ahead, was riding just behind Alm as well as Clive, Mathilda, and Fernand.

Fernand's look was sullen. Despite not having any confrontations since his release, he has since kept to himself, only rarely speaking to Clive, Mathilda, or Clair. Gray looked at him and couldn't help but feel a sense of pity for the man who simply looked…lost.

"Erm, hello." A voice called out to him. He turned around to see Luthier, book clutched tightly to his chest.

"Oh, uh…yes?" Gray asked.

"It's nothing" Luthier said bluntly. "I just felt like watching over Alm. He's…a very odd man, wouldn't you say? So charismatic yet humble, a rare combination indeed."

"That's Alm for you." Gray said as they rode. "I heard you did a lot during the last battle. Thanks."

"It's nothing." The mage said as he opened the book to read, his legs still walking at a brisk pace. "I only did what was assigned of me, in return for the safety of my sister."

"Oh yeah, that's what you're here for. Don't worry, we'll save her, I promise." The man said, showing his usual toothed smile.

"Indeed." Was all Luthier could have said, as they marched the long road to battle.

 **And that's it. Mostly a filler chapter to establish what will happen to Fernand from here on out. Expect him to get some focus, though not as much as the Ram crew. Next up, more battles and some Tobin time, till then –ArcanaHermit.**


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10_

 _Last Confession_

As the Deliverance camped for the night mere miles from the sluice gate, Fernand found himself with nothing to do except not being awake. He was understandably alienated from anyone, and no one would accept him. So he ate his meals alone, did his work alone, and was from the most part ignored.

And it aggravated him to no end.

At this point, he wanted to be hated, screamed at, perhaps even be victim to an attempted murder or two. Anything to get rid of the sense that he was alien, that he wasn't there, like a lingering spirit with no form or power.

And so he walked around camp aimlessly, with passing soldiers giving him empty stares. He wanted to shout to high heaven and thrash one of them to the ground, but knew it would not do any good. He would not squander the chance he was given.

" _Chance? Ha! Pity more like. They simply see you as a pathetic wretch who can do no harm, so they keep you for their self gratification."_ A voice in the back of his mind blurted out, whose tone was a mix of his and Berkut's.

He wandered until he reached the edge of the encampment, and walked beyond the boundaries. He doubted that anyone would stop him. At the forest he could hear the chirps of crickets, the falling of leaves. Some people found it relaxing and refreshing, he found it just another annoyance.

His ear picked up a noise, and he wandered towards it. The noise got louder and louder until he recognized it as an arrow hitting wood. Perplexed, he wondered what idiot would practice archery here; until he saw that it was Tobin, calmly unloading another arrow into the arrow he just struck, splitting it.

Tobin was ready to notch another arrow until his eye caught Fernand, and the two turned to face each other for a moment. Saying nothing, he simply notched another arrow and fired, pretending he wasn't there like the rest of them. And the silence that he felt all throughout the day persisted.

"Your archery skills are impressive." Fernand admitted nervously, trying to engage in conversation.

Nothing.

"I assume Sir Mycen trained you to be so proficient?" He asked, trying again.

No response. Fernand's frustration grew.

"Bah, I guess I should have expected silence." He said as he started turning back, fists clenched.

"Why?"

A single word stopped him in his tracks. He turned around to see Tobin staring at him. There was no hatred in his eyes, just a cool judging look that let out no emotion. As they continued to stare at each other, Fernand finally cracked. "Why did I betray Berkut for the Deliverance?"

"Yeah." Tobin said as he notched another arrow, breaking away from his gaze. "As much as I hate to admit it, you rescuing Mathilda made the battle a whole lot easier. Hell it might have been the different between us winning and getting slaughtered. But I still don't understand why you would give away your high horse to help us after all you've done."

"I simply value the lives of my friends more than my cause." Fernand said softly but firmly.

"So you still hate all of us village folk? Even those that got nothing to do with what happened to your family?" Tobin replied accusingly.

"And what would you do if someone butchered your family?" He said, his voice growing. "What would you have done if everything you love was forcefully taken from you?"

"Oh I'd be mad." Tobin replied coolly as he landed another arrow. It was a few centimeters off, and he cursed. "But I'd just blame the ones that did it. Blaming an entire group is just stupid."

Feeling like a child being chided by an adult, Fernand simply growled and bit back his tongue. He stood there, angry as Tobin flew arrow after arrow, before finally responding.

"Hey, if it was someone noble that killed your family, would you still want revenge?" Tobin asked after he shot his last arrow and inspected his work. Not one arrow missed a branch, thought a few fall short of the mark, much to his dismay.

"Of course."

"But would you blame it on all the nobility?" He said, as if shooting an arrow directly at Fernand. "Would you want revenge on all of them? On Sir Clive, Lady Mathilda? On yourself?"

At those words, Fernand could say nothing, and he despised it. He was being cornered verbally. Deciding that he has had enough conversation for one day, he turned away and left the boy to his own devices.

* * *

Tobin simply looked on as Fernand walked back to camp, and couldn't help but feel that he had shamed him. Not that he felt bad about it, but he also didn't mean to do so.

Deciding that it didn't matter, he picked up his arrows and climbed down the large tree, feeling a sense of nostalgia as he grabbed a makeshift handhold in the wood, his eyes always fixed towards the ground below.

He quickly strolled back into camp, passing a few soldiers who gave him respectable nods and bows. It felt uncomfortable to him, as it made him feel older than he actually is. But he wasn't going to let personal discomfort get in the way of what was happening, something that he reflected on recently:

He was becoming a leader.

True, the ultimate head of the commander will always be Alm, but the Ram Villagers, him included, were also taking up roles of leadership, if not officially. Men were looking up to them, and when they ordered, people obeyed. Slowly but surely they were becoming the new figureheads of the Deliverance, though whether all have accepted or realized it he couldn't say.

All in all, he wasn't sure what to make of the revelation. He never joined the army expecting to be thrust into a position of power. He always assumed, start to finish, that he would be led by others. But now here he was.

His thoughts persisted on his walk. He wasn't going anywhere in particular, he simply felt like walking. As he crossed the corner, he felt something bump into him, letting out a small yelp. The scream caught him off guard and he fell to the ground, bottom first. He realized that people were staring at him, and he cursed under his breath.

" _Great, just great."_ He thought, and looked up at who he bumped into. His eyes widened as he saw who it was. Faye seemed to also realize it, as her eyes were just as wide as him.

"Oh Mila, I'm so sorry." They both said at once, their face flushing. Faye extended a hand and Tobin grabbed it, and felt his face flush even more. Her hands were so soft.

"I was just taking a walk." Faye said. "I guess I was just caught off guard. Sorry for screaming."

"Apology accepted." Tobin said, brushing off the last of the dirt from his clothing. "I was taking a walk too. Want some company?"

Faye simply smile and nodded, and Tobin was thankful that she was blushing as well, lest he be embarrassed. They walked around the camp, the moonlight shining down on them as they conversed on insignificant things.

As night continued and the paths started to empty itself, they finally decided to sit on a patch of grass, gazing at the stars like they did in their childhood.

"So, big battle tomorrow, huh?" Tobin said, and Faye nodded absentmindedly. She didn't want to think about battles or fighting, not on a night like this.

"Tobin, what will you do after this is all over?" She asked, her gaze still on the sky. "Say we win the next day, what then?"

"Hmm?" Tobin said, and thought for a second. "I'd go back and see my family, obviously. Probably give them all the gold I earned as a soldier, and hopefully not have to worry about my brother starving for a while."

Faye nodded. "Yeah, I thought as much. You'll go back to Ram, Gray will go back, Kliff…probably will go back…but Alm isn't coming back, is he?"

The last statement hit him, and he looked at her. Though her face remained neutral, there was a sorrow in her eyes that he knew, and he wanted to comfort her, to hug her. But he said nothing, knowing that nothing he said could help her.

"He's probably going back to Zofia castle and help people there." Faye continued when she realized that Tobin isn't going to say anything. "Maybe he'll stay there. It's where he's needed, after all the want a leader like him."

"You've thought about this, haven't you?" Tobin said, finding the strength to speak. "You could always…go with him."

She shook her head, eyes closed. "Nah, I don't think I'll be of much help there. Besides, I have family back at Ram too, you know? It's funny, I've known for a while that Alm only has eyes for Celica, but even so, I still…"

She broke off, staying silent. Tobin knew what it's like, just a little. As a child, he was attracted to Faye, even knowing her romantic interests were solely onto Alm. As childhood turned into adolescence, the attraction has cooled off for the most part, but he would still fluster slightly whenever the two were alone.

"Hey, even if that's the case, I'm sure he still cares for you." Tobin said with a faux heroic accent. "And…you know…there are some people who care about you as well."

"Like you?" Faye turned his head towards him, a coy little smile on her lips even as traces of tears formed in her eyes.

"Wha?" Tobin said, his eyes wide and his jaw open. "I…I don't…I mean."

"Come on, I'm not dense." Faye said, giggling a little, but immediately frowned and looked at the grass, ashamed. "I know how you look at me sometimes. And I'm flattered, I really am. I just don't…feel the same way, you know? I'm sorry."

Tobin sighed. "I know, I've known for quite awhile, so I've never said anything. But it's alright…these feelings go away."

"I hope so." Faye said as the two looked at the ground, too embarrassed at the revelations presented to them. "But I'm still having these feelings for Alm, after all this time. It's been 10 years, Tobin, all the while knowing I can't have him, I still want him. If they haven't gone away now…then when will they?"

"They will, eventually." Tobin said, clasping a supportive hand on her shoulder. "I mean, I've gotten over you. I'm sure you'll get over Alm as well."

"Thanks…" Faye said as tears finally rolled down her face, but her smile remained. To Tobin, her smile under the moonlight was one of the most beautiful sights. "So, still friends?"

"Still friends." Tobin responded, and the two turned to talk about less important things, as the aching in their hearts slowly healed.

* * *

In the sluice hallway, the High Cantor Tatarrah was busy testing the control of his new toy. With a twisted grin, he said. "Now Delthea, destroy that prisoner."

The aforementioned prisoner, bound and gagged, let out a muffled cry of horror as the girl in front of her uttered a simple word, and he burst into flame. In a few seconds, only a charred corpse remained, and the girl did not respond or react, simply…staring.

"Good, good. Not a hint of mercy in you, not a hint of remorse. Excellent, my dear pet." Tatarrah said in a smooth voice. "You may leave."

"Yes, Master Tatarrah." Delthea said in a monotone voice, and soon walked away to sleep on the floor somewhere. She was a tool, she needed no comforts.

"Tatarrah." A voice ringed in the hallway, though it was a faded and distorted voice, seemingly with no source. Pulling out his crystal ball, the cantor saw a dark mist pooling in the centre of it, coalescing until it made a familiar face. That oh his master, High Cantor Jedah.

"Master Jedah." Tatarrah said with a bow. "How may I serve Duma's will?"

"The boy who leads the resistance against us is a problem." Jedah said, and even from here, his voice radiated terrible power. "You must kill him here, at the sluice gate, and break their feeble Deliverance."

Tatarrah made a swiping motion with his hand. "It will be done, my lord. Already my forces have dug in to the gate itself, ready to blast their armies down. And even if they were to reach me, I have a hidden trick that will ensure the demise of their precious Alm."

"Good, that is all." And the mist faded, the ball being merely crystal once more. Tatarrah made a soft cackling sound, one that would surely frighten any who heard it. And at that he walked down the hall, looking for a certain tool.

A tool to shatter the Deliverance for good.

* * *

"There's still no sign of my sister." Luthier grumbled, anxious. "She has to be there, she has to."

"If she is there, then she's probably held up within the gate itself." Clive mentioned. "Regardless, we'll have to focus on the battle at hand."

The mage nodded, though his eyes still looked towards the other side of the river, anticipation swelling in his eyes. Clive turned back towards the rest of the council.

"Their defense is impressive." Clive continued. "No Terrors as far as our scouts can see, but a whole host of Cantors dug in towards the battlements outside the gate. They count at least a dozen, but there may even be more than that."

"That's going to be a problem." Alm said. "If we just charge in, then the cantors will destroy us. There's no secret entrances, is there?"

"No, there was no need for the gate to have one." Mathilda added. "What do we do then?"

And so began a heated debate on how to precede, how to minimize casualties and to defeat them efficiently. Some suggested a frenzied march; others suggested using the fliers to lure out the Cantors, and others simply shook their heads, not offering any suggestions.

At the very back end of the tent, Fernand looked on and couldn't help but be reminded of his constant squabbles with Clive. Nothing would be accomplished, and both of them would leave frustrated…

"Enough." Alm said. "We don't have time to argue this out. As we talk, their defense keeps strengthening and Luthier's sister is still in danger."

The group immediately silences, and Fernand looked on with a mix of shock and grudging respect. His voice was calm but firm, and was a kind that people listened to. He could see why Clive wanted him to be leader, if only slightly. Still, he kept silence.

"Fernand." Alm turned towards him, and he was off guard from his sudden recognition of him. "What do you propose?"

"I'd send the fliers as a distraction." Fernand after the shock past, trying to think with a level head. "The charge in with cavalry and take out the cantors before they can do any more damage."

"But they have archers." Clive said, insistent. "We'd lose them before we can even breach their armor lines. And the whole plan would crumble."

"We're looking at this the wrong way." Alm said. "The cantors are our obvious problem, so we need to remove them from the field first." He pointed at several points on the map where they have been sighted.

"Right now the only way to reach them is through our fliers." Alm continued. "That means they need to be the ones to take them out, meaning we can't squander them on something as simple as a distraction."

He turned to Clair and Faye. "How fast do you think you can take out those Cantors, assuming we bought you the time?"

The two thought long and hard before coming up with a response. "Fairly fast, if you can get those archers to fire at something else, otherwise we won't even be able to reach them, Alm."

"Right, here's the plan." Alm finished, gathering the attention of everyone in the room. "We march our troops towards the bridge and draw their fire, and then we fall back and lure their troops inward. Once that's done, we capitalize by charging back. They won't expect it, which gives us enough opportunity for the fliers to dive for the Cantors."

"That's a awfully dangerous risk." Mathilda said, though her tone indicated she wasn't opposed to the idea. "If the enemy isn't caught off guard, we'd lose both our flying capabilities AND a good portion of our forces."

"Yes, but it's the only way forward without simply throwing bodies at them. We win this cleanly or not at all." Alm countered, to the nodding of everyone else save Fernand. "So, are we agreed?"

The rest of the meeting was spent on details such as timing, positions and orders. Fernand stayed silent all the while, but couldn't help but notice that the meeting was far more unified than anything he'd been a part of previously, and struggled to think how a simple boy managed to convey such a sense of unity.

Once all the details were discussed, they all dispersed to relay the plan to the others, leaving Fernand, Clive and Alm in the room. Fernand looked at Alm and said. "Where will I be during the battle?"

The two turned to him and Alm stepped forward. There were no animosity in his eyes, no suspicion, and Fernand found himself unnerved…almost ashamed.

"You'll be in my unit." Alm said. "We'll be fighting on the front lines at the bridge to draw out the enemy."

"You want me…in your unit?" Fernand said. "A traitor who betrayed the Deliverance, in a position where I can easily stab you, are all peasants this forgiving? Why do you care so much for me?"

"Because it's much easier to trust someone than to hate them." Alm said. "I want to trust you, Fernand, like I do everyone here. Are you willing to trust in me?"

At that reply Fernand simply turned his head and out the tent. "You're a fool."

"Did I say something wrong?" Alm turned towards Clive, who shook his head.

"No he simply needs time." Clive said. "He's trying to move on, but it's best not to push him. I'll keep an eye on him, just in case."

"Alright then." Alm said, and left the tent to assemble his equipment, leaving a smiling but doubtful Clive. He still hasn't questioned Alm about his heritage, and decided that he would postpone that discussion until after this battle is won.

* * *

Tobin was walking down a busy road, bow and quiver strapped. He walked down this road yesterday, and noticed that the serene environment has been utterly destroyed by the preparation of bloody battle.

He noticed men sharpened their swords and spears, or fletching their arrows. Newly recovered wounded were checking with Silque to make sure they were fit for combat, with some even pleading after she had rebuked them. Squires were rushing about with saddles and a bridle, preparing their master's mounts for war. There are those few who simply stared, wondering if this is the battle where their lives would end.

Tobin wondered why he never felt that. He would never describe himself as fearless or foolhardy, yet he never buckled under the fear of death. It was simply another question into a pile of them; most he figured would go unanswered.

As he turned towards the stables, he spotted Faye grooming her pegasus in preparation of flight. She noticed his approached and waved a friendly hand. The two remembered the previous night spent together, but there were no awkwardness among them.

"Hey…" Faye said as he brushed a hand on her mount's silver mane, the beasts neighing in appreciation. "What are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to see you off before you go." Tobin said. "Isn't that what friends do?"

Faye simply pointed at the other side of the clearing, where he saw that Gray and Clair were conversing as well. The two wore comfortable smiles around each other, even as Clair said something to make his friend wince.

"As much as you fight a lot, you two are awfully similar in some ways." Faye said with a sigh. "I'll be fine, trust me."

"I hope so." Tobin said. "Hey, let's celebrate after this, alright?"

Faye responded with a smile and a nod, and the two parted. Tobin wished he could talk more with her, but the battle was fast approaching. He figured he could save his words for after it was done.

* * *

"Steady now..." Alm said as the men marched closer towards the bridge. "Steady…"

It was a gesture meant to calm the nerves of those marching, though it had limited effect. Some were trembling, more noticeably than others, while others stood steadfast for the chaos about to unfold.

As expected, the opposing end of the bridge being filled with armored knights, with infantry right behind them. Their shields locked and spears drawn in a tight phalanx, the enemy began its slow march to counter the Zofians. However, they were not the threat here.

The Zofians in the front line can already see it as multiple Cantors emerged from their hiding places, dark purple energy already pooling in their hands. They let out a series of soft but audible cackles, and a few more Zofians found themselves unnerved by it. The tension in the air was almost palpable, the strategy that decided life or death so fragile.

They had willing walked into this death trap in order to spring it. There was no turning back now.

Alm continued to march in the front line, his face as steady as stone. They were almost in range of the Cantor's spells now. Another step, then another, then another, a steady beat of feet on stone as the tension grew ever thicker.

At last, they stood at the edge of their side of the bridge, staring down the enemy knights that placed themselves firmly on their side. Alm looked into the eyes of the enemy: cold, merciless, anticipating their next move. He would not falter, he would not budge.

"Deliverance, Charge!" Alm shouted out, and his men complied, charging in disorderly ranks as they met the enemy. The young leader would lead the charge himself; he would face the danger with his men.

No sooner than they had met the enemy was when the Cantors casted their spells, sending sickly bolts of miasma and raw power. The initial wave of spells destroyed many men, either blasting them off the bridge or killing them where they stand. The Cantors soft cackles grew louder at the carnage they caused.

"Damn it." Alm cursed, not for the plan, but for those who needed to die for it to succeed. "Deliverance, retreat!"

At that command the Deliverance immediately turned their backs and ran, a frenzied but organized retreat as the Cantors continued to fire blast after blast of spells. The Rigellian knights, which stood still, now began to give chase to their retreating enemy, like a hunter to its prey.

As they almost reached the shore, Alm raised a hand and the army stopped. A lesser army would have taken a moment to regroup itself, but this was the Deliverance, and they would not fail Zofia. They turned and charged back at the chasing knights, catching them off guard. They were still in a phalanx formation, their shields locked against one another. But a large bolt of wind immediately sent their front line flying, their bodies sinking to the waters below.

Alm turned towards the now-emerging Luthier and gave him a grateful nod, before charging into the fray with his men.

Up above the clouds, Faye and Clair saw the battle below for just a moment before surging towards the other side of the river, above the skies so that no one can see them. Catching sight of their targets, they urged their beasts to dive down.

Like meteors they hurled downwards at breakneck speed, tearing through the skies. As expected, the cantors were lightly guarded by a contingent of troops, and they did not see them. It was too late when the first two cantors noticed them, and far too late to do anything about it.

In an instant the fliers' spears caught them, landing a hole in their sides before immediately flying upwards and out of reach. The two cantors muttered curses and feeble praises to their god before falling. Faye nodded to Clair as they immediately dived for another pass.

The enemy was more prepared this time as archers looked to the skies, their bows aimed and ready. Once they were within sight, they loosed their arrows towards them. A few flew past the two but most missed their mark thanks to their skilled maneuvers. Again they descended and again two more Cantors found themselves dead.

The third pass was even closer, with an arrow grazing Clair's mount on its side and another landing a cut on Faye's cheek. The archers were learning from their maneuvers, but for now another two Cantors fell, near half their numbers gone.

Meanwhile on the battlefield below, the Rigellians on the bridge just got word about the attack on the Cantors, and this time it was their turn to retreat from the bridge. Alm let out a fierce cry and the Deliverance smashed themselves onto their rear as sword met shield and flesh. In the midst of it Luthier and Kliff cast spell after spell, punching holes into their ever worsening flanks.

Broken and demoralized, the organized retreat broke down as individual soldiers ran and broke formation. Those who tried to reorganized were surrounded and cut down by the more disciplined Zofians, who now were giving chase across the bridge.

* * *

"Rush through them." Tobin cried out as his arrow hit another straggler. The edge of his sight caught Gray defeating two soldiers singlehandedly, his sword moving as if it were part of him. "Get to the other side as fast as possible and beat their Cantors."

The Deliverance complied as the cavalry finally came, riding through the bridge quickly. The infantry followed behind them, though they were slowed by pockets of still resisting Rigellians. Tobin quickly picked up a mount offered to him and rode it. Racing past the bridge, he saw that the majority of the cavalry managed to avoid the spells and is now riding to weed out the remaining cantors. Without them, the battle was surely won.

And yet still Tobin felt a sense of unease. This battle was by no means easy, but he so felt that it was coming along too smoothly, and that there is something wrong. Something that he failed to understand…

The heat of battle broke him out of that thought as he spotted another fleeing enemy. A quickly fired arrow saw him fall down, and he charged ahead, the thought shoved to the back of his mind.

* * *

"How were our losses?" Alm asked as the men began securing the bridge and both its entrances. While they haven't secured the sluice gate building itself, intelligence reported that it was lightly guarded. The enemy threw everything they had to the defense outside.

"Not as much as it could have." Clive said, looking around the battlefield. While most of the bodies were Rigellian, there were Zofian bodies among them. "I shouldn't have doubted your plan. We made it through with minimal casualties."

"No, you were just voicing your concerns." Alm said as he looked to the entrance of the sluice gate. "I'd like to lead a small force inside to secure the building. Can you deal with the rest?"

Clive bowed his head. "Of course." He said, and headed off. Passing him was Luthier who ran up to Alm and waved for his attention.

"Alm." Luthier said bluntly. He was sweating and panting, exhausted after all the fighting, but his voice still radiated energy…and urgency. "My sister isn't among the enemy; my belief is that she's held within the sluice gate itself."

"I was just about to call for you. I want you to join me as we enter this building and drive out the rest of the enemy." Alm responded. "We'll save her, we promise."

Luthier could only nod in gratitude as the team was gathered, prepared to end this battle at last.

* * *

The group moved through the entrance at last, killing the last of the guards than challenged them. Despite that, the hallways were eerily empty as they walked through them towards the main hall of the sluice gate.

The sense of unease Tobin felt was now growing. There was a trap here of some sort, he knew it, and he was certain the others knew of it as well. The question was what the trap could be.

Another hallway passed, devoid of enemies, and the feeling continued to persist among the group. They expected at least some light resistance, but besides the enemies at the entrance, there was almost nothing. No ambushes, no Cantors, no Terrors…simply nothing.

"What's going on here?" Gray said. "They sure left this place in a hurry."

"Stay prepared." Alm said, drawing his sword as they reached the door main hallway. "I think there's someone in this room."

Opening it, Alm's suspicions were proven correct as a single man was at the centre of the room, kneeling as if he was in a cathedral. He wore Cantor's robes, but with gold trimmings and a special signet on the back, indicating his higher rank.

The man did not react to the new intruders, as if they didn't exist, he simply knelt there, uttering alien words even as the group surrounded him, weapons drawn and ready.

"Identify yourself." Alm said. "I am Alm, leader of the Deliverance, and I demand to know who you are, Cantor."

The Cantor stopped his chant and looked at him, as if it was finally aware of where he is. Then he flashed a sinister, inhumanly wide smile. "Welcome, Deliverance. My name is Tatarrah, it is a pleasure that we can finally meet."

Tobin drew his bow and looked around the room. It was hard to see in the dimly lit room, but his eyes were keen and sharp. Looking at his surroundings, he could feel something was off, but once again confounded as to what.

And then, a light in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

"It is…such a shame, for one such as you to die so young." Tatarrah laughed and stood upright. "But Lord Duma has commanded it, and so it shall be done. Now, my puppet!"

Tobin saw before anyone else a girl peeking out of the corner of a shadow. She was a small girl, with brown hair and eyes, looking…almost empty. Fire was curling up in her hands, and before anyone could react, the fire shot out from it.

Towards Alm, towards their leader.

It was as if time froze. Tobin knew he couldn't stop what was about to happen, unless…

Clenching his teeth, Tobin launched himself towards Alm and braced himself. Like many things before the war, he never thought himself as selfless, but now he was ready to sacrifice himself for his friend. _"Guess I'm better than I think I am."_ Tobin thought.

Tobin was shot with the blast of fire, sending him an Alm back. Gray let out a loud shriek as Tatarrah cursed, his mission failed. His next thought was cut off as his chest was pierced by Faye, shock and tears in her eyes.

Gray charged at the girl, anger taking over his thoughts. Drawing his sword, he was about to bring it down on her head until a gust of wind knocked him off his feet.

"Gray, no!" Luthier called as he rushed towards the girl, who now looked confused and scared at her surroundings.

The girl was now crying and on her news, finally aware of what's happening, though she still felt confused. "I…wha?...What did I?"

Luthier immediate went and hugged her, wrapping his arms around her as any good brother should. "There, there." He said in a rare, gentle voice. "It's alright, Delthea. Everything is going to be alright."

Gray stood up and looked at the girl, anger still in his eyes. That anger was soon replaced by concerned as he ran back towards his friend. Alm was getting up, but Tobin remained on the floor. Rushing towards his friend, he gasped as he saw him.

His chest was severely burned through his clothing, and his face was giving out a gasp of pain. His eyes were half open, and Gray wasn't sure if he was conscious or not. He quickly knelt down and shouted out. "Tobin…Tobin?"

Tobin didn't respond, and that broke him. He let out a cry of anguish even as Alm quickly called for Silque, tears flowing freely down his eyes. He knew that this would happen, that war would take its toll on all of them, but experiencing it firsthand was infinitely worse than knowing it.

"Damn it…Tobin…don't you leave us like this. Don't you dare." He cried out, but was met with silence once more.

 **And that's it for this chapter, see y'all next time. -ArcanaHermit**


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter 11_

 _A Reason To Fight On_

In a certain room within the newly capture sluice gate, the clinking of bottles and the moaning of a man in depression could be heard.

Gray groaned as he put the bottle to his lips, emptying its contents. His mind was hazy, but he liked it that way. Better addled and dulled than to face the reality of what happened a few days prior: The flash of flame, the cries, and his friend on the floor with a charred chest, looking up to the ceiling with a stare of a dead man.

Of course, he wasn't dead. By some miracle or curse, he had hung on to life. Barely breathing and barely accepting the broth and water that was provided to him each day. Silque had said that he did not know when, or if, he would recover, and whatever semblance of restraint his best friend had was shattered at that very moment.

And so he drank, pilfering the stores of the nobles, not enough for it to be noticeable, but enough to drown his sorrows in the privacy of his chamber, enough to make him forget about his grief, if only for a while.

" _Why do the nobles deserve this anyways?"_ Gray thought as he emptied his bottle, the second of the night. _"We common folk are the ones who made it; they just come in and take whatever they want. That's what they always do, bastards!"_

As he threw his bottle and reached for another one, a knock on the door broke him from his stupor. He'd had visits before: from Alm and his friends, from Clive, even from Clair, all of whom he rejected and pushed away. He didn't want their pity; he wanted to laugh with his friend again, to go back to the days where he could boast about their survival.

"Oh, go away." Gray shouted as the knocking persisted, his voice heavy and slurred. "I don't want to see you; I don't want to see anyone."

The knocking stopped, and Gray was just about to open another bottle before it entered. Kliff emerged from the other side and gave him a look.

"W-what do you want." Gray said as he put the bottle to his mouth, only for his friend to swat it away, its contents spilling on the floor. "Hey! That was mine to…to…"

With a surprising strength Kliff pulled his friend up and slammed him against the wall. Looking directly into his friend's face, Gray could see that he wore the same face as he always wore, neutral with a hint of irritability. It angered him how calm he could be even when his friend was at the edge of death.

"You're coming with me." Kliff said simply, his tone brief and blunt.

Gray pushed him off and leaned on the wall, the drinks affective his balanced as he glared at his friend. "Piss off! I don't want to go nowhere, I don't wanna…wanna…"

Kliff's face finally changed into one of disgust as he slap Gray across the face, a hard swipe that left a mark on his cheek. "You're coming with me." He repeated again, his tone dropping to a threatening low.

Gray was still not intimidated, especially not in this state. "Or what?" He asked, almost roaring as he said it aloud. "You're going to kill me?"

Kliff's response was a simple sigh as he reached for the doorway, giving him one last look. "You're pathetic." He said nothing more as he left him alone, Gray slumping down to the floor.

Drink. He needed more drink, but all his bottles were emptied now. There was nothing to do but to face with reality again, and Gray almost sank into despair. In desperation he bolted out of his room and saw Kliff leaning on the hallway. His friend said nothing as he turned his back on him and walked away, Gray mutely following.

They made their way outside the sluice gate on the Zofian side. It wasn't guarded, but torches lit up the grassy plain along the river. Coupled with moonlight, it made for a beautiful sight. Gray cared for none of it.

They finally stopped near the western part of the wall, and Gray could see a training sword lodged within a trunk. He turned to Kliff and said "I'm not in the mood for-"

A sudden bolt of lightning made him jump to the side. Even under the influence, his reflexes were still working, though his dodge was a clumsy one as he landed on his knees. He quickly got up and looked at his friend, who held his hand towards him, another spell ready.

"What the hell are you doing?" Gray shouted, but was simply met with another spell as Kliff continued to stay silent. Gray rolled to the side and picked up his sword, brandishing it. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Do you think you're the only one worried about him?" Kliff said simply as he fired off another spell. Gray rolled off to the side and began charging him. "You're the only one who's stupid enough to think that."

Gray simply screamed as he charged towards his friend, who fired off another spell. Not bothering to dodge it, it hit him in the shoulder, his sword flying off his hand. And yet he charged and tackled his friend into the ground, rolling the both of them to the grass.

Pinning Kliff, Gray starred at his friend, and was only now noticing the traces of red on the corner of his eye, and the subtle bags underneath it.

"Do you think you're the only one who's worried?" Kliff repeated again, struggling against his hold. He broke an arm free and punched Gray in the face, sending him tumbling off him.

The two rose up and looked at each other, shame and understanding in their eyes. Gray could feel a tear rolling down his cheek, and he looked away as he sniffed.

Kliff looked away as well, muttering. "You know I'm not good at this…Why do you make it so hard?"

"S-sorry, guess I just seem to make everything a bit harder for you huh?" Gray said, forcing out a chuckle. "I…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…you know…"

"Yeah, I know." Kliff said simply as he brushed the grass off his robe, and quickly raised his hand towards his friend, power welling towards it. "I brought you here to cool you off, so are you going to pick up the sword or what?"

Brushing off his tears, Gray quickly rushed to pick up his fallen sword and turned it on his friend. He gave him a smile. It wasn't a genuine one, but it was still a smile. "I'm going to beat you."

"A gold piece says you won't last five minutes." Kliff retorted as a smile formed on his lips, or what would pass for a smile when it comes to Kliff.

The two danced and sparred throughout the night, making them forget about their worries, and about themselves.

* * *

In the makeshift infirmary a low candled was lit as a girl looked over a man in his bed. Faye stared at Tobin, his chest barely rising and falling. Faye's face was a tired one, her eyes red from all the tears. She would have shed more if not for the fact that it wouldn't change the situation.

Among the Ram Villagers, Faye took this loss the hardest, to the surprise of herself. She knew Gray and Kliff were grieving as well in their own ways, but it was shocking how hard and raw her anguish was, and still is, over Tobin.

And so, every day and most nights she would come here, praying for her friend to recover. For him to open his eyes and give her the smile he so often gave. But every time she went it would be the same: the eyes shut, the chest slowly rising and falling, his lips fixed in a grim frown.

"Please wake up…" Faye said, staring at him as she often did these days. "I don't want you to die…"

Her thoughts went back to only a scant few days ago, where they both sat and talked under the moonlight. She wanted to go back to that moment, to hear his words one more time. And it was replaying that moment in her head that made her wonder…

"You know." Faye said, voicing her thoughts. She didn't know why she did so, and she risked waking up the other patients here, but she still wanted to speak. "I haven't been thinking about Alm at all lately, not even a bit."

She was sure that if she said that, Tobin would look at her with the most shocked expression of his life. Just imagining it made her giggle, if only a little. But it was nonetheless true and almost unprecedented as far as she was concerned.

"Yeah, I know how crazy it sounds. But it's true." Faye whispered, her voice slightly hoarse. "During training, at night, even when I'm just relaxing I think about him, even a little. But now I can't think of him at all."

She let out a light yawn and rubbed her eyes. She was tired and it was late, but she just wanted to stay here a little longer. She wanted to be by his side when he woke up.

"I've been…thinking about you." She said at last, as if waiting for his response. "I remembered what you said that night before the battle, Tobin. That you've gotten over your feelings for me. I…I don't want that to be true."

"You've always been there by my side, always smiling, always laughing. I…think I want to be by yours." She finished with an unsteady tone, unsteady in her resolve. She'd had feelings for Alm for years now, and wasn't sure if she could throw that away so easily.

But she wanted to, knowing his heart belonged to another, and knowing that there's someone who understands her. That's who she wanted to be with, even as she wavered in her mind.

"There, I've said it. I hope you're happy." Faye said, feigning annoyance. She let out another yawn, a quieter one this time. She figured that no harm could be done by resting a little bit, and so leaned back on her chair and closed her eyes.

"So please, wake up…for me…" Were the last words she whispered out before sleep claimed her tired mind.

* * *

The sun had risen, its light shining on two young men lying down on the grass. They let out exhausted, but satisfied gasps, their weapons tossed clumsily away.

Gray sat up after a while and looked at Kliff. It was odd to see Kliff have any expression other than mild disdain, but the man looked oddly serene, staring up into the orange sky.

"Why'd you do this, Kliff?" Gray asked as he stood up and stretched his tired and bruised body, he was sure he was going to feel those later, but for now he didn't care. He had let go of his worries for the night, and that was something he would gladly put his body through hell for.

Kliff didn't rise, still lying on the grass. "It's what Tobin would do, isn't it?"

Gray simply nodded in agreement and said nothing. After a good while, they headed inside the sluice gate and went their separate ways. Several people gave Gray looks as he passed them, but he ignored them as he turned the hallway to his quarters…

…and found Clair waiting outside, leaning her back against the wall with a worried look on her face. Gray couldn't help but blush at the thought of her waiting for him and found it oddly adorable, though he definitely wouldn't say that to her face.

"Um, hey Clair…" Gray said as he approached her. Clair immediately turned around and looked at him, a shocked expression on her face.

"Gray, where have you been, I was waiting for…" She cut herself off, probably to hide the fact that she was waiting longer that she wanted. "Never mind that, would the boy care to tell me why his body is so…filthy?"

Gray blushed, slightly embarrassed. "Um, I was…letting some stuff out."

"Well, I'm glad to see your mood has improved, if only a little." The noblewoman responded, a slight flush on her cheeks. "It was…rather difficult seeing you as you were the past few days."

"I can imagine." Gray said, and sighed. "Listen, sorry. I know I haven't made things easy."

"The boy is excused, given the circumstances." Clair said before he could continued, flashing him an understanding smile. "I know what it's like to grieve, and how it can consume you."

The young villager simply nodded back, flashing a quick smile in response. A moment of understanding passed between them, as while she never made a deal about it, her parents were no longer with her. They both knew loss. Clair's flush deepened and she looked away slightly, even more embarrassed. "A-anyways, if there is anything that I can do to ease your pain, you may ask for it. Consider it a blessing that I've extended this offer."

"T-thanks…" Gray replied, feeling a little of his aches soothe. Such was her effect on him. "Well, actually I wouldn't mind if we did something together. Maybe a night out?"

Clair was shocked by the sudden response. She meant the offer as a kind gesture, and was caught unawares when he actually decided to take her up on it. "U-um, well…" She said, internally cursing at her stuttering. "I would be honored to, but as you can no doubt imagine, the lady is very busy, but rest assured I shall keep my word…sometime in the future."

"Alright then…" Gray said with a nod and headed into his room, leaving a flustered Clair outside. He didn't sound disappointed or excited, merely tired.

Clair walked out of the hallway with mixed thoughts. On the one hand, she'd promise Gray what essentially amounts to a session of courting. On the other, she didn't entirely oppose the thought, and was starting to reevaluate her feelings of him.

There was definitely fondness and gratitude for both saving her life and for saving the life of Lady Mathilda, but as for whether there was anything resembling affection…she still wasn't certain. Friends she would gladly accept, but suitors…

* * *

With an annoyed sigh, she simply couldn't find an answer, and decided that she'll make her decision when she and Gray met again.

Faye woke up to sunlight, and felt her body ache from sleeping on the chair. She internally chided herself for accidentally sleeping through the night, and looked towards Tobin. His body still rested, still alive, but not awake.

"Hey sleepyhead, had a nice nap?" A voice called out. She quickly turned around to see Gray, who gave her a playful wave as he approached her. Faye let out a slight smile in appreciation.

"No, it was painful. But I was so tired…" She muttered out as she stood and stretched, feeling her joints respond warmly to it. "Besides, I wanted to see if he would wake up…"

The two exchanged a melancholy look and turned towards their friend lying on the bed. Their meetings here were always like this, silence at their loss, a quiet sorrow shared among them.

"I think…I found my answer." Gray said after a while, his voice sounding resolved. Faye looked to him with a curious gaze.

"Heh, I suppose you weren't there but…" He continued. "Back when we use to train, I mentioned how I really didn't have a reason to fight, not a strong one anyways."

"But now I do…" Gray said. "To protect you, Kliff, Alm and all the rest. To make sure nothing like this ever happens again. I think that's why I'm going to fight from now on."

Faye looked at him and saw that his face was as resolute as his words. She wasn't sure what caused this sudden change from his grief stricken state just a day prior, but she was happy for him. "Well, I think that's great. I'll watch your back too, you know?"

Gray simply nodded as the two grew silent, their grief slowly turning into resolve as they watched over their friend.

* * *

A few days later, the order was given to march onto Rigel. The army was just leaving the sluice gate on the long road to Rigel Castle, to put King Rudolf to justice for his crimes.

Gray, on Tobin's mount, looked back onto the building where his best friend still lay. His condition was improving, though he has yet to wake. Faye and Kliff looked beside him. The trio usually separated when marching, to attend to their respective duties. Now they stuck together in their darkest moment, their shared hope.

"Feeling better?" Faye asked as they turned back towards the horizon to Rigel, towards the next battle.

"Not even close." Gray muttered. "You?"

Faye shook her head. They've both went to sleep the last night, the first real one in what seemed like eons. With the rest came a renewed resolve, for Gray especially, the resolve to carry on in spite of leaving their friends behind.

Looking beyond, they could see Alm shouting words of encouragement towards the army, though even the most careless of observes can notice the heavy bags under his eyes, and the slight twitch on his mouth. It comforted the Ram Villagers to know that as distant as Alm could be at times, he still cared for the people he grew up with.

"Alright, I'll have to go fetch my pegasus, scouting mission." Faye said and walked off, leaving Kliff and Gray. The two weren't the closest among the Ram Villagers, but the past few days have given them a closer understanding, and a tighter bond between the two of them.

"Battle soon, huh?" Gray said, which Kliff nodded in response. "I've got your back, promise."

"Yeah, like you're strong enough to protect me, you can't even protect yourself." Kliff shot back playfully, leading to a smirk from his friend. "Just let me do all the work, as usual."

The two made light banter as they marched on. When the next battle came, they thought, they will not meet it with bitterness or anger, but with determination to protect what matters to them. Their home, their lives.

And the lives of those who fought beside them.

 **Alright, this came out way later than I wanted to. A new year of college will do that. Regardless, happy Valentine's, and the next chapter will be the second encounter against Salt Lord Berkut -ArcanaHermit**


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